The Aftermath
by CanisMajora
Summary: This tale continues the stories of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, and the unlikely friendship that blossoms between two boys who grew up too fast. Other prominent characters include Hermione, Luna, Dean, the Weasleys, and more! This story will have a combination of drama, action, romance, humor, and adventure. Everything up until the end of DH remains canon.
1. Chapter 1: The Trial

Chapter 1

The Trial

A heavy, all encompassing silence filled the chamber Draco Malfoy sat in with his mother and father. They did not speak to each other, and the aurors guarding the only set of doors into the outside hallway stood stoic and severe. His mother sat up straight and tall, dignified as she always was. His father looked sickly, ill- and much closer to panic and tears than either himself or his mother. Draco, for his part, merely looked tired. Like he hadn't slept for days. He hadn't. It was hard to sleep in Azkaban, even with the eradication of most of the dementors.

It was a little over two months after the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, and the Dark Lord had been defeated. The Malfoy name, once respected and revered in the wizarding community, was now said with a sneer and whispers of disgust when mentioned. The Weasleys were now considered a more prominent, well to do pure-blood family. The thought make Draco's fingers tremble- with anger, with jealously- with fear. The shackles that bound his wrists clanked ominously at the movement.

 _Overkill,_ he thought with a sneer, staring at the chains. _I don't have a wand, and there's a two auror guard watching my every movement. I'm locked in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. How do they expect me to escape?_

But Draco remembered reading about _their_ escape from the Ministry of Magic. _The Golden Trio_ , he snidely called them in his mind, using the nickname The Daily Prophet had bestowed upon the misfit crew consisting of a mudblood, a blood traitor, and the boy who survived. His fingers began to tremble again, causing his mother to glance over at him. He knew she would not offer words of comfort in front of his father and their guards, but he sat up straighter and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind, as if preparing for an occulemency lesson from his Aunt Bellatrix.

Footsteps echoed down the long, windowless corridor outside their room, and a small, wispy witch with flyaway gray hair opened the door. Two more young aurors followed her.

"The Wizengamot is waiting for you," she told them briskly, ushering them upright. "Come along now, please!"

The Malfoys stood, trying to cling on to what dignity one could with shackles around their wrists and ankles. They were shepherded down the torch lit hallway, the witch walking with a quick pace, her purple robes billowing out behind her. Draco struggled to keep up, the bindings on his ankles limiting his movement. The two aurors who had guarded them followed from behind, their wands trained on himself and his parents. The young ones did not draw their wands, but marched on either side of them, as if in a very somber procession in a parade.

They quickly arrived at a set of large, heavy doors that had a comically large iron lock in the center of the wood. Whether to combat escapes or eavesdropping, Draco wasn't sure. He swallowed and tried to take a shaky breath. His fate was about to be decided, and he wasn't foolish enough to be confident that he would come out of this situation a free man. He didn't allow himself to think so optimistically; instead, he only hoped he wouldn't be going to Azkaban for the rest of his life.

For the rest of his life.

He still had so much life left.

He clenched his fists to stop his fingers from trembling as the doors opened, and they stepped into the dungeon they were to be questioned in.

High benches surrounded a deep circular pit. The walls were made of a dark stone, hardly lit by the torches mounted to the walls. It was so dim that those sitting on the highest benches sat masked in shadows. It was rather clever, really. The courtroom was clearly designed to make one feel small, inadequate... and guilty.

He recognized a few faces in the crowd of people- old colleagues of his father, people in the ministry whose hands exchanged gold with the Malfoys on more than one occasion. People who had come around to Malfoy Manor for dinner, with whom he had toured gardens with, spoke with and laughed with. They did not offer reassuring smiles or even spare a glance his way. The expressions around the room all bordered on a mild disgust or a clear outrage.

"Alright now, go on and have a seat in the middle, there!"

Three chairs sat in the center of the pit of the courtroom, and the Malfoys were each marshaled into one, their chains moving on their own accord, binding them tightly. Draco had to wonder if anyone had ever escaped from these chairs, creating the necessity of all these security precautions.

At least fifty pairs of eyes stared down at him from their lofty positions. Nearly all of witches and wizards in the stands were clad in deep purple robes with the silver logo of the Wizengamot emblazoned on their chests. The witch who had escorted them to the dungeon climbed onto the bench that sat right in front of the Malfoys, close to a man Draco recognized right away- Arthur Weasley, patriarch of the Weasley clan. An empty chair sat between them, and another Weasley sat immediately to her right. Draco recognized him as the pompous boy who had been a few years above him at Hogwarts, though he did not seem to have the same annoying air surrounding him that he had in their school days.

"The court will now call to order." A deep, accented voice announced. Draco glanced upwards; the speaker was a tall, impressive looking African wizard he hadn't spoken to before, but that looked vaguely familiar. The room abruptly fell silent as the man filled the seat in between Arthur Weasley and the wispy witch. "The disciplinary trial of the 13th of July, for offenses committed under wizarding law by one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, one Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy, and one Draco Lucius Malfoy- all of whom reside in Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England. Interrogators are myself, Kingsley Ikemba Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Arthur Septimus Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and Mafalda Agueda Hopkirk, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Percy Ignatius Weasley will be temporarily returning to the position of Court Scribe for the duration of this trial."

Draco felt as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees. _Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Arthur Weasley?_ Draco was stunned. That was quite a promotion from dealing with charmed muggle artifacts and false protective enchantments... _They must still be questioning Yaxley, if he isn't already dead or in Azkaban._ Surely there was some rule of bias being used? Arthur Weasley, deciding the fate of the Malfoy family... it was almost comically unfortunate.

"The Wizengamot gathers the accused from their holding cells in Azkaban to stand trial for the the crimes committed over the previous two years of open warfare.", the newly appointed minister continued. "We will begin with the questioning of the elder Mr. Malfoy. Stand, sir, if you will."

The chains around his father loosened enough for him to struggle to his feet. He was looking worse than ever, his skin slightly green.

"You are Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"

"I am." his father replied in a cool tone.

"Mr. Malfoy, you stand before the court accused of treason, use of all three of the unforgivable curses, kidnapping, resisting arrest, and conspiring with Lord Voldemort in the ranks of his Death Eaters."

Draco's heart beat faster at the mention of _his_ name. Muffled gasps rang through the court. Even dead, even defeated, his name instilled fear and menace wherever it was spoken. Shacklebolt, however, did not seem to be remotely perturbed by it. _Shacklebolt._ As soon as he said the name to himself, a vague recognition dawned inside of him. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. This did not bode well.

"Witnesses for the prosecution include one Garrick Overpraise Ollivander, Luna Pandora Lovegood, Dean Aldrich Thomas-" Draco spun around in his chair, and the chains tightened. Were the witnesses present? He hadn't seen them when he walked into the room, but yes- yes, there they were, seated half in shadows, above the doorway he had walked in. The Lovegood oddity, the wandmaker, the runaway Gryffindor and... and _them._ Granger, the Weasel, and... and Potter. "-as well of a collection of previous charges and investigations compiled by Arthur Weasley, and eyewitness accounts from those on the front line during The Battle of Hogwarts and the seizing of the Ministry of Magic, whose accounts will be added as a copy to the court records. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"

No one rose.

"Mr. Malfoy, we will begin with the least damaging charge you possess," Arthur Weasley glanced at the parchment in front of him, "A team of aurors came to collect you at your home two days after the Battle of Hogwarts, and found themselves unable to breach your manor. When cursebreaker assistance had come through, Magical Law Enforcement officers entered to find the house deserted. Upon thorough searching of your home, it became apparent that multiple persons had been held against their will in your cellar, bound and tortured for an unknown amount of time. An official public warrant was issued for your arrest- for charges of kidnapping- at this time, and yet aurors had to spend four days attempting to discover your whereabouts, until you were found in your father-in-law's countryside home in Derbyshire, with your wife and son. At this times, it is reported that you came quietly and without struggle into the custody of the arresting aurors. Is this an accurate account of the situation?"

"It is."

"Would you like to elaborate on any details we have not yet been aware of?"

"I would." Lucius spoke in a determined tone, "I was not, in fact, aware of the official warrant for my arrest. I expected that I would be searched for, and I did not intend to run forever. The account noted that I was found at the home of my father-in-law's estate- quite unprotected by defensive enchantments. I believe it should be taken into consideration that I would certainly not choose to hide somewhere so, ah, easily found, if I was attempting to evade arrest."

"What possessed you to choose such an auspicious time to take a sudden vacation to the countryside, Mr. Malfoy?" Arthur Weasley peered at him.

Lucius stood a little straighter.

"I knew that I would soon be removed from my son and wife, and wished a small amount of time to reconcile with them, without the threat of the dark lord standing over us, without being on the run, and without being in fear. I did not expect them to be taken to Azkaban with me. "

Arthur Weasley stared down at him. _Right,_ thought Draco, _time to reconcile with us... as if you didn't only sit in silence, staring at the wall for days._

"Your testimony has been noted onto the record." Shacklebolt convened with Percy Weasley and the Hopkirk woman, as their quills ferociously scratched against parchment. Draco found his gaze once again drawn to where his schoolmates sat. The Weasel whispered something to Potter, who nodded, looking solemn.

"The next charge to be addressed is the kidnapping and holding of Mr. Garrick Overpraise Ollivander, Luna Pandora Lovegood, and Dean Aldrich Thomas" Shacklebolt said, his deep voice ringing out clearly. "Four additional charges for the holding against their will of Mr. Ronald Billius Weasley, Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, Mr. Harry James Potter, and the deceased goblin Griphook have been discussed previously with the court. The latter victims stand that you were not a member of the party of snatchers that captured them, but that you did hold them against their will in your home and attempt to summon Lord Voldemort to your home to hand them into his possession. Is this an accurate account of these events?"

'It is". Lucius replied in a cool tone. Angry whispers broke out as Lucius blatantly confirmed his guilt.

"We shall call forth the witnesses"

Draco's head was buzzing. There would be no debate on whether or not these charges were justified. Resisting arrest, maybe there was some room for argument- that discussion had actually gone smoother than he had expected. The new minister seemed a just man, but it was hard to tell with his smooth and controlled tone. Draco wondered if he had always spoken like this, or if the constant stream of work and trials the ministry had set since the end of the war had given him his velvety monotone.

Ollivander stood up first. He had clearly still not recovered from the months he had spent in Malfoy Manor's cellar. His skin seemed to hang off of him, and he leaned heavily on a cane, his skin paling with the effort it took just for him to stand. Draco looked away. He could not make contact with those pale, nearly translucent eyes- instead he stared at a large crack in the stone floor. Ollivander's whispering voice managed to carry around the courtroom, providing the details of his violent kidnapping from his shop in Diagon Alley. How he was seized by no less than 6 death eaters, including Draco's father, and taken back to Malfoy Manor. He relayed the gruesome details of his incarceration, where he was tortured for weeks under the cruciatus curse by Lord Voldemort himself before being bound and locked in the cellar for months; how he was left on the constant brink of collapse due to starvation, dehydration, and hypothermia. How he would surely not have been kept alive without his valuable knowledge of wandlore, which He Who Must Not Be Named craved.

Undoubtedly, he would have died from fatigue long before being murdered, and only the combined efforts of Luna Lovegood, a house elf named Dobby, and Harry Potter allowed him to survive the ordeal at all.

Draco kept his eyes trained onto the floor, wishing he were able to obliviate himself so he would not have to remember these words, so he would not have to know what kind of a man his father was, and could forget the gruesome crimes that had been committed in the house he had grown up in.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. The next witness for the prosecution is Ms. Luna Pandora Lovegood"

"Thank you, minister." a dreamy voice spoke as Lovegood, who was dressed in rather bright cerulean robes with patterns of runes covering the fabric, helped Ollivander back onto the bench. "That was very well said, Mr. Ollivander."

"Well, lets see... yes, I was taken from the Hogwarts Express on my way home for the Christmas holidays. It was quite an ordeal- there were three death eaters sent for me, I've heard since that it was to silence my father for the content he was publishing against You Know Who in The Quibbler. It's a shame it had worked, but he didn't know what happened to me, I suppose."

Luna gazed interestingly at the ceiling with a serene expression on her face, as if she were not staring at stones so deep in shadow they seemed to not exist, but at clouds making pretty shapes in a perfectly blue sky.

"Lucius Malfoy was there, along with another man called Lestrange, and another called Nott. They attempted to remove me from the train-"

"Attempted, Ms. Lovegood?"

"Oh yes, you see, quite a few students were not keen on letting them take me quietly," Luna said happily, "Among them were Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Ginny Weasley, and Susan Bones."

"All, I believe, known members of Hogwarts's own vigilante group, Dumbledore's Army, in which you co-reinstated this year"

"Oh, yes," Luna replied, now positively beaming, "The Death Eaters found themselves quite outnumbered, actually. I don't think they expected students to put up a fight. I believe we could have easily overpowered them."

"How, then, were you taken?"

"Well, it was quite simple, really," Luna spoke with a patient air, "I knew they would either call for reinforcements, or start aiming to kill. There were first years on the train, screaming. I could not run, as there was nowhere but further down the train to run to. I don't have my apparition license yet. After carefully considering my options, I called for a cease fire, and went with them on my own accord. My friends were not happy, but I was happy that they were safe."

"And you made these considerations while dueling with trained death eaters more than twice your age?"

"Oh, yes," Luna replied, shooting a wink at Potter. "Years of training with the D.A. made us all quite capable fighters."

"You're in Ravenclaw, are you not?"

"Yes, minister- _wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure!"_

The corners of Shacklebolt's lips twitched. "Please continue, Ms. Lovegood"

"Well, we went to a nice big house, which at the time I didn't know was Malfoy Manor. There were some nasty people there, but luckily for me there seemed to be some kind of argument happening that distracted them from spending too much time on me. They were rather preoccupied with their own concerns. I wasn't tortured, but my wand was taken, and a man called Peter seized me and threw me into the cellar. It was there that I met Mr. Ollivander, who was in quite a sorry state."

"We remained in the cellar for weeks on end. I lost track of time. I told Ollivander stories, and he told me about his travels, and his family. Occasionally they fed us, and I'd give him most of my food, as he was so weak. Sometimes he was taken upstairs, and when he'd come back down, he'd be nearly unconscious. I'd hear his screams no matter how tight my hands were clasped on my ears."

There was muttering from the jury at this. The Wizengamot looked angry, and offended. Nearly every witch and wizard in Britain had known Ollivander personally, had gotten their first wands from him, had visited him in Diagon Alley. They shot Ollivander pitiful glances while giving approving ones to Lovegood.

"One day, sometime around Easter, we heard quite a commotion happen upstairs. It wasn't long before Harry and Ron were also forced into the cellar, with Dean and Griphook. I was dismayed to see them, as I'd hope they'd continue to evade capture. I helped remove their bindings. They had kept Hermione upstairs, and were torturing her quite viciously. I think Ronald had the hardest time hearing her, as she was screaming rather terribly. That was hard to listen to. I like Hermione, she didn't deserve what happened to her. She's very nice." Lovegood beamed at Granger, who was, Draco noted, holding tightly to the Weasel's hand and looking shaken at being reminded of her ordeal.

"Harry managed to call Dobby the House-Elf to our aide, and sent Dean, myself and Mr. Ollivander ahead of him and Ron to Shell Cottage, where Bill and Fleur Weasley received us. They all arrived a short while afterwards, but..." Her eyes, normally so bright and inquisitive, darkened for the first time. "But Dobby, he didn't make it. Bellatrix Lestrange had stabbed him."

There was a beat of silence around the courtroom. Draco felt a twinge of pain, and of guilt. _Dobby didn't make it._

"Thank you, Ms. Lovegood."

She sat down primly, Mr. Ollivander patting her knee and whispering to her.

"Next witness for the prosecution, Mr. Dean Aldrich Thomas"

A tall, good looking boy in Draco's year stood. Draco hadn't had much communication with him over the years beyond the usual rivalry between Slytherin house and Gryffindor house. He was an original member of Dumbledore's Army, from Umbridge's time at Hogwarts.

"I was on the run with a small group of men, and two goblins. Among us were Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell, both who were on the run from the Ministry of Magic. We got caught by snatchers. I think..." he swallowed thickly. "I think it was my fault we were caught. They found us while we were trying to find some food in a muggle town we thought would be safe. They claimed that I wasn't of age, and should be at Hogwarts, and asked us to prove who we were. It came to a fight, and one of the snatchers called for backup. A few death eaters arrived, Lucius Malfoy was with them- and one immediately killed Ted. I'm not sure who did it. Then all hell broke loose. We fought as hard as we could. Griphook was hit with a stunner, Gornuk was killed- it was awful, he was slashed open- and I got disarmed."

Thomas took in a shaking breath, and Lovegood reached for his hand and held it softly in hers. Draco saw him squeeze it tightly.

"It was Dirk against all of them. I told him to run, to leave me. He didn't. He just looked at me strangely, as if about to ask me a question he was sure he already had the answer to. Then one of the death eaters aimed a killing curse straight at me and he... he stepped in it's path, and fell. I couldn't move. I froze. He gave his life for me, and I froze." Tears were now streaming down Thomas's cheeks. "We had grown pretty close, the two of us. He told me about his sons, and how he'd hoped they'd grow up to be like me, and how I reminded him of an old friend of his. He shouldn't have died like that."

Arthur Weasley bowed his head hearing these words, looking stricken.

"The death eaters disapparated back to wherever they came from, leaving us with the group of snatchers. They dragged me over to Griphook and tied us up," Thomas continued, "I thought Griphook was going to die. They were preparing to take us to the ministry for questioning, but they got an alert- a taboo had been broken, and we were apparated to another location instead. We surrounded a tent, and I heard voices and names I recognized, but I couldn't see what was happening- and before I knew it- Harry, Ron and Hermione had been tied up with me as well."

Draco found this piece of information unexpected. He had assumed that Dean had been traveling with the three of them. What were the odds that four Gryffindor students would have been caught within moments of each other?

"We were taken to Malfoy Manor. When we arrived, the Malfoys went to fetch their son- to fetch Draco- to see if he could identify us."

Draco's head snapped up at the mention of his name. He had finally been brought into the proceedings.

"Draco came into the room. I thought it was over then. He would have known, you see, who we are were, and that I wasn't wizardborn." Dean stared into Draco's eyes, as Draco struggled to take in a breath. "But... he lied to them."

A louder outbreak of murmuring broke out at this statement. Many eyes turned to Draco, but he only stared back into Dean's, dark brown into light gray.

"Order, please!" Shacklebolt's voice boomed through the room. "Continue, please, Mr. Thomas."

"He pretended not to know us. He hardly spared us a glance. Harry was all swollen up, almost impossible to recognize, but it was still him. Everyone looked worse for wear and was in bad need of a haircut, but Ron, Hermione and I would have been instantly recognizable. He knew who we were. We'd had classes with him for 6 years. Even if he somehow managed to block out my name in all that time, he would have known I was in his year at least. He would have known." Dean shrugged.

Lucius's eyes bored into Draco, who looked down at the ground again.

"Why do you believe he lied for you, Mr. Thomas?" Shacklebolt asked, a note of surprise in his voice over this piece of information. "You hadn't mentioned it in your previous statements."

"I'm not sure why he did it. Only that he did." Thomas took a deep breath. "I didn't know he'd be here today. I thought it'd only be his father."

 _I don't know why I did it, either, Dean Thomas. I suppose I was just so tired of seeing people die. Or maybe I just wanted a small taste of justice, of rebellion..._ but a small voice in his head spoke the truth he would never speak out loud- _Or maybe, just maybe, you wanted to help Potter and his friends... you wanted them to escape, to be able to end the pointless, bloody war..._

"They kept Hermione upstairs, and sent the rest of us down to the cellar. You know the rest of the story from Luna's account. Hermione was tortured, and we were rescued and taken to Shell Cottage."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas, you may have a seat."

Shacklebolt conferred with the wizards and witch surrounding him once more. Percy Weasley resumed his frantic scribbling onto his parchment, as if he'd forget the information he'd heard immediately if it wasn't written down as quickly as possible.

"You have heard the accounts from the witnesses. We will move onto the most serious charges- treason, and conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind by the side of Lord Voldemort. Under his regime, we have found sufficient evidence that you performed all three of the Unforgivable Curses- the cruciatus curse, the imperious curse, and Avada Kedavra, multiple times."

"Mr. Malfoy, do you openly admit to the use of these three curses?"

"I do," said Lucius coldly.

"Do you admit that you placed Broderick Bode, an unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries, under the imperious curse 2 years ago, on order of Lord Voldemort, which led to his insanity?"

"I do."

"Do you attest that by doing this, you led him to his death in St. Mungo's Hospital- where he was sent a clipping of the Devil's Snare?"

"He was in St. Mungo's on my doing, but I took no part in the actions taken against his life. I was not aware his brain would be magically confunded by protective spells in the Department of Mysteries, nor was the Dark Lord. It wasn't until Augustus Rookwood was broken out of Azkaban did we discover what had happened to him."

Shacklebolt did not look impressed by this argument. Draco's father continued to answer questions, never seeming to lie, but using other truths to protect himself. That his wand was stolen by the Dark Lord and destroyed, so conclusive evidence could only come from witnesses, pieced together guesswork, and his own admittance of guilt. Draco was impressed with the amount of time the Minister took questioning his father, asking for minute details and word for word accounts. Fudge would have just thrown him right into Azkaban for life with no hope of a trial. _At least Shacklebolt seems to actually want to pursue justice,_ Draco thought to himself, _whether or not my father deserves to be heard._

"Mr. Malfoy, I ask that you pull your robe back from your left arm and display it to the courtroom"

Lucius gave Shacklebolt a long, hard stare, which Shacklebolt returned unblinkingly.

"We are waiting, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco watched as his father revealed his dark mark, a surefire piece of evidence against him. He felt sick to his stomach. _They say having a dark mark guarantees a life sentence in Azkaban..._

"Mr. Malfoy, this ends our questioning. Do you have any final words to say in your defense?"

"I do not."

Narcissa, who had remained stoic and stony faced through the proceedings stared at him in cold alarm, while Draco closed his eyes, afraid he might be sick. Would he say nothing in defense of himself, or his wife and son? Was his pride really worth so much?

Shacklebolt remained expressionless, his dark eyes revealing nothing to Draco or his audience. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, have a seat. The Wizengamot will discuss your sentencing after we have concluded examining your wife and son."

Lucius shuffled back into his seat, where his chains reattached themselves to the magical chair that bound him. He cast a glance over to his wife, who was still staring at him.

"Mrs. Malfoy, if you'd please stand."

Draco watched as his mother stood, straight and proud, even weighed down as she was by shackles. She kept her chin elevated and her gaze downwards, as if making eye contact with the Minister was beneath her. It was actually quite impressive that she had managed to pull off the air of indifference that she had. _I suppose she's well-practiced at it, isn't she?_

"You stand accused of treason and conspiring against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind with Lord Voldemort," Shacklebolt announced, staring down at her. " Evidence has been collected by our auror department to be brought against you in trial. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"

"Yes."

Draco whipped around and stared at the source of the quiet voice. Potter had risen. The court erupted into loud voices, gasps of shock and dismay, and confusion. A frizzy haired wizard with a large nose actually stood up in protest. Only a few people looked more grim than shocked, including the minister, the Weasleys, and Granger. This must have been planned. _What could you possibly have to say for my mother, Potter?_

"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter as a witness for the defense. Mr. Potter, you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes."

Potter sat back down, and stared firmly at the wall opposite him. The room fell silent in anticipation as Shacklebolt's eyes returned to Narcissa's.

"You are Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"

"I am." his mother replied in a shaky attempt at indifference.

"Mrs. Malfoy, are you, or have you ever been, a death eater?"

"No, I am not, nor have I ever been." Narcissa spoke, continuing to stare coolly at the ground. "I may have sympathized with the idea of blood purity in the beginning, but when it became clear that the Dark Lord was not truly interested in the sanctity of being a pure-blood, I was quickly disillusioned of himself and his aims. However, one cannot simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. I had no choice but to stay, even as I watched him make my family suffer."

"Am I correct in understanding that you did not believe it was the aim of Lord Voldemort to raise pure-blooded wizards above all others?" Mafalda Hopkirk questioned, her eyebrows raised in clear surprise.

"You are correct."

"What led you to this conclusion?"

"The Dark Lord punished my husband, whose blood is among the purest in the world, by allowing him to be sent to rot in Azkaban." She stated, "He then sentenced my son to his death, by branding him and setting him the impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord did not expect Draco to succeed in this task. He hoped to punish my husband further by having our son die on his command. My son, whose blood is pure and who committed no acts against the Dark Lord, was sentenced to death. The Dark lord did not honor the sanctity of their blood. He only wished to toy with those he considered beneath him, and I assure you, Minister- everybody was considered beneath him."

"I asked Severus Snape to make an unbreakable vow to me to protect my son, as I and Lucius could not. My sister, Bellatrix, stood witness. He agreed, and it was him who ultimately killed Albus Dumbledore, not my son. Were either of them still alive, I'm sure they could confirm this story for you."

"But they are not. Both of them are dead, one way or the other, by associating themselves with Lord Voldemort." said Shacklebolt.

"I stopped caring about the whim of the Dark Lord the moment he threatened my family, Minister. I did not wish to have any connection or association with him, but I had to choose to stay and play my part, or be killed, and have my son killed with me. I chose to stay. I do not regret my choice, for my family remains whole and in tact."

Shacklebolt's eyes bored down into Narcissa's; a cold, hard look that made Draco uneasy- but it was nothing on the icy blue stare that came from Arthur Weasley.

"You did not show remorse for following Lord Voldemort when he slaughtered innocent muggles and wizards, including those of pure lineage- among them children and families much like your own," Arthur Weasley began, "or when he attempted to murder a _one year old child,_ or tortured a defenseless old man in your home-but only when your own family was threatened. You disconnect yourself from the reality of the dozens of murders and atrocities that the man you fed and hosted in your home committed. Your family may remain whole and in tact, Mrs. Malfoy, but few others could claim this to be true."

Points of color had risen in Narcissa's cheeks at these words, but she said nothing.

"Show us your left forearm"

Narcissa pulled here sleeve back, and revealed a pale, thin arm that had no mark or blemish upon it. There was some muttering at this, but it seemed to be widely suspected that Draco's mother had never been branded, only followed those who were.

"Do you have any final words to say in your defense?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Only to remind the Wizengamot that you cannot imprison someone for their beliefs, only their actions."

There was more muttering at her response. For truly, what _had_ she done that they could charge her for? She had stood by silently while crimes were committed in front of her- but if she hadn't, she herself would surely have been murdered on the spot. Draco caught snippets of a few conversations, including mentions of Charity Burbage and Bellatrix Lestrange. The overall tone seemed to be bordering between suspicion and sympathy. It was one thing to be biased in your own opinion, but quite another thing to murder and torture those that one was biased against...

"The Wizengamot recognizes Harry James Potter as witness for the defense", Mafalda Hopkirk announced as Potter stood.

Draco held his breath. What was Potter going to say? Would he tell some veiled story that would hint his mother was involved with more than she really was- but claim he was defending her to keep his conscious clear? Even as Draco ran through these scenarios in his head, he knew they would not be true. Draco was thinking like a Slytherin, but Potter was a Gryffindor. He did not posses the cunning it would take to boldly do that in front of the court- and, Draco had to admit, he would not be so undermined as to attempt it anyways.

Potter looked worn, exhausted. Draco wondered what he had been doing for the past few months. Whatever it was, it clearly did not afford him much rest.

"When I walked into the Forbidden Forest in the early hours of May 2nd," Potter began, "I found myself standing face to face with Voldemort, surrounded by a circle of death eaters and their sympathizers. Voldemort shot the killing curse at me. It hit me square in the chest."

Loud gasps came from witches and wizards all around the courtroom once again, including one from Draco himself. They'd all heard, of course, that Harry had walked into the forest to sacrifice himself... such a _Gryffindor_ thing to do... but it seemed that Draco was not alone in hearing, for the first time, the detail of Harry Potter surviving a point blank killing curse not once in his life, but twice.

"I don't know if I died and came back, or if I never really died. Either way, after..." He hesitated, as if omitting a part of his story he did not wish to share, "When I woke up again, Voldemort himself had also been thrown back. He was afraid he had failed again. He sent Narcissa Malfoy to confirm whether or not I was dead."

All eyes in the courtroom now darted between Potter and his mother.

"I thought it would be over for me, then. I was surrounded by countless death eaters, and Voldemort himself stood a few mere feet away. My heart was beating. I was breathing. I expected to feel Bellatrix Lestrange's sharp fingers digging into my skin- but the hands that felt my pulse, my chest, were much softer and gentler than anyone else's could be. Mrs. Malfoy could clearly feel that I was alive. She pretended to be listening to my breath, and whispered so quietly I could hardly hear her voice above my own pounding heart." Potter looked directly into the eyes of Draco's mother, who returned his gaze steadily, a hint of unconcealed pride in her eyes. "She asked me if Draco was still alive, and I told her that he was. She then turned and looked Lord Voldemort in the eye and... and she lied straight to his face. She told him I was dead. She knew it was her only opportunity to go into the castle to find her son."

Witches and wizards sat in shocked silence.

"I can't speak for the choices she's made throughout her lifetime- but if Lord Voldemort had sent anyone else but her to check my pulse, I would have been immediately killed, and he would have done it in a way that return would have been impossible." He shrugged his shoulders, "Without her I wouldn't have been able to duel Tom Riddle in the great hall. I wouldn't have been able to come back, and I wouldn't have been able to kill him. Whether she lied only for her son's sake or not, she chose to betray Voldemort in the end- and I reckon that shouldn't go unnoticed."

He sat down. The silence continued, and it felt louder than any of the mutterings and murmurings that had broken so far. _His mother had done that?_ Lied to the Dark Lord? And not only did she lie... but she survived lying to him. Few people had accomplished that.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Shacklebolt said at last. "Mrs. Malfoy- you... you may have a seat."

Draco's hands began to tremble again. He was next. His mother might have secured herself freedom through her innocence... but he was not so innocent. He glanced at Arthur Weasley. It was Draco who had brought Fenrir Greyback into Hogwarts, it was Draco who had led to Bill Weasley's disfigurements. It was Draco who had a dark mark. It was Draco, who was up there, that night on the tower... there was no evidence that it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore, and Draco's presence up there was known... and all the witnesses on the tower that night were not only death eaters, but most of them were dead.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you'll stand."

Draco stood, his shackles loosening just enough to allow him a few inches of movement. He still trembled, and the feeling that he might be sick in front of the entire courtroom returned tenfold.

"You are Draco Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"

Draco could only nod, his mouth too dry to speak.

"Mr. Malfoy, you stand accused of treason and conspiring against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind with Lord Voldemort. Furthermore, you stand accused of being an accomplice to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for the attempted murders of Ronald Billius Weasley and Kathleen Elizabeth Bell, for illegal use of the imperious curse, and for the crime of being a Death Eater." Kingsley glanced at the large pile of parchment in front of him, frowning. "Evidence has been collected by our auror department to be brought against you in trial. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"

Draco had no expectations for anyone to stand. His friends, sons and daughters of death eaters, had not come to witness his trial. It did not matter; Draco knew the court would not have heard them out, even if they had the ability to compile anything in his defense. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, so he would not have to look around a room full of people who knew him, but none who would defend him, none who would be on his side, none who would understand...

"Yes."

For the second time, Potter's voice rang out clearly, saying that word. _Yes._ Draco's shock was even more extreme than it had been the first time Potter rose. He whipped his head around and stared, and there he was- standing, but he was not standing alone. Granger stood next to him, though the Weasel sat stoically by her side, clearly unhappy with her. _Potter and Granger?_ He thought. _How? How is that possible? After years of fighting, of disdain... after Potter had sliced him open, and Draco had tried to kill him..._.

 _But..._ the small voice in Draco's head returned. _Potter came back for me in the Room of Requirement_. _Potter had found him worth saving._ He had not left Draco there to burn alive, as he had deserved. Potter had reached out his hand, not once, but twice, even after his hand had slipped. Potter could have left Draco, claiming he had tried, that it was too hot, too smokey... too dangerous. But he didn't. He came back, and flew them to freedom, more natural on a broomstick than anyone else he'd ever seen...

"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Hermione Jean Granger as witnesses for the defense. Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger- you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes." They sat back down, Granger rather flushed in the cheeks.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you, or have you ever been, a death eater?" Arthur Weasley asked him, staring at him directly.

Draco swallowed thickly, attempting to find his voice. "Yes."

Arthur Weasley closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. He shot a grim look towards Potter, shaking his head.

"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore on Lord Voldemort's orders?" Shacklebolt asked, peering down at him. Draco knew the Order was well aware he didn't kill Dumbledore, and hoped this was not an attempt to frame him, but merely an attempt to piece together the missing parts of the story they did not have.

"No," Draco took a sharp breath, "I was ordered to by the Dark Lord... but I didn't kill him. Snape- Professor Snape- did. I arrived on the scene first, but I couldn't... I didn't. We were alone on the tower. I had disarmed Dumbledore, but he only spoke to me. He told me he could help me, that he had known all along the task I had been set to do. I hesitated, but before either of us could say anything further, a group of death eaters arrived on the scene."

"Death eaters that you sneaked into the castle, correct?" Kingsley continued to stare down at him. _Had he been there that night,_ Draco wondered, _fighting alongside the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army?_

"Yes."

"Did you perform the imperious curse on Madame Rosmerta, the landlady of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade?"

"I did." said Draco, in a muted tone.

"And did you instruct her, under the imperious curse, to give Kathleen Bell a cursed necklace that you had purchased at Borgin and Burkes?" Hopkirk asked.

"Yes."

"A necklace that was intended to be delivered to Albus Dumbledore, but instead almost took her life, forcing her to stay in St. Mungo's hospital for several months in a recovery ward?"

"Yes." Draco had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

"Did you also have her poison a bottle of mead, to be sent to Albus Dumbledore, that instead ended up poisoning and nearly taking the life of Ronald Weasley instead?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly, looking down at him through his crooked spectacles. Draco noticed Percy Weasley's quill freeze on his parchment. The quiet, calm tone with which Arthur Weasley spoke to Draco with almost made him wish the man would yell, scream- or even hurtle a few heavy objects at him. Draco had nearly killed his son, and yet- if he wasn't mistaken, he still saw sympathy deep in Arthur Weasley's eyes.

"I... I did." Draco whispered.

"Two lives were almost lost due to your reckless behavior and your inconsideration for the lives that surrounded you. If it wasn't for the quick action of other students and teachers, they would have died at your hands. Do you understand that?" Shacklebolt leaned forward in his seat to inspect Draco with a closer eye.

Draco bowed his head. "I do."

Shacklebolt leaned back and shuffled a few more pieces of parchment around.

"Please show us your left forearm, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco raised his sleeve, and displayed his dark mark for the Wizengamot to see. He himself would not- could not look at the disgusting mark that was forced upon his body without his desire, without his consent.

"Did you knowingly and willingly take up arms and receive orders to fight for the cause of Lord Voldemort, Mr. Malfoy?

"No. I didn't want to fight."

More murmuring. Draco wished his hands were free so he could clap them over his ears and stop listening. Instead he shut his eyes tightly, trying to pretend he was anywhere other than sitting here, being forced to expose his secrets to the entire ministry, with Potter as a witness to his failures and his terrible choices.

"In the summer before my sixth year at Hogwarts, I was forced to receive the mark on my arm by the Dark Lord. My mother... she believed it was to punish my father for having failed him in the Department of Mysteries some months prior. He told me I had a special mission... to kill Albus Dumbledore. He said if I did not, he would slaughter my entire family before me."

Draco stole a glance at Potter, who had moved forward in his seat.

"Do you have any final words to say in your defense?" Shacklebolt asked.

Draco hesitated. "Only... only that I never wanted to be a death eater, but I had to choose between being branded or my family dying. I never had a choice. Not really."

Shacklebolt stared down at him, studying him with dark eyes. Draco felt as if he was looking right inside of him, deep into his core, into the darkness that resided inside of him that he wished he could destroy but could not.

"No further questions. We call our first witness for the defense- Ms. Hermione Jean Granger."

Draco watched as Granger stood, cast a nervous glance around the room and took a breath to compose herself. Her involvement in his trial was almost as much of a mystery as Potter's. At least Potter had more of an insight into the front lines, more of a connection with Voldemort... what could she have to say in his defense?

"Minister, this is in regard to the night the court has already discussed at Malfoy Manor- the night that Harry, Ron and I were captured by snatchers and brought before Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. I was immediately identified by Narcissa Malfoy as "the mudblood girl" who traveled with Harry Potter. I had put a stinging hex on Harry to swell him up and make him unidentifiable. Ron was protected by blending with his large family. Draco Malfoy was summoned into the room and told him to identify us to confirm who we were before summoning Voldemort."

 _Ah,_ thought Draco, _this again._

He said he wasn't sure if Harry was, well, Harry- but of course he must have known, don't you see? He'd have known right away that it was him, with the amount of time in our school year they spent glaring at each other and fighting. Of course, I had no disguise and nor did Ron or Dean... he also would have recognized us on sight. When asked if I was the girl known to be traveling with Harry, he told them he wasn't sure." the Granger girl looked directly at Draco, "I realized then, that he... he wasn't in a situation he wanted to be in. There was nothing more he could do for us, however, than to act ignorant. He couldn't have released us, there were too many to fight, and the ones he'd have to fight were his family..."

 _Family._ He was sick of hearing that word. _Family, family, family._ Families were supposed to be warm, be friendly. A painful shot of jealousy, one that he always tried to contain deep inside him, shot through him when he looked past Granger at the Weasel. _Poor, but loved in ways that Draco would never be able to have or understand._ Draco would have fought against his family if it would have helped. He was ashamed to admit it, but the real reason he didn't put up a fight because he knew they would have lost either way. Bellatrix would have perhaps spared him, but the Dark Lord would not once he'd heard of his betrayal.

"Regardless, they quickly realized who we were," Granger continued, "but Bellatrix Lestrange spied the sword of Godric Gryffindor. She could not call Voldemort without first discovering whether or not it was the real one, or if it was a copy. It was supposed to be safely hidden away in her vault in Gringotts. It was I she chose to question. Ron and Harry were dragged away from me. That's when... that's when Bellatrix Lestrange began to try to force me to reveal information to her."

Granger's face seemed to lose a bit of color as her voice trailed off, and her gaze was locked at an invisible point in the distance. She shook her head, as if to clear it, while the Lovegood girl started swatting at the air around her head.

"She had a silver knife," Hermione whispered, "It was small, but she knew how to use it." Hermione shook back her sleeve to reveal the horrible scar across her left forearm, more horrible even than the dark mark: the word 'mudblood' gruesomely carved deep into her flesh. "Malfoy- he asked her to stop. He begged her. He told her I clearly didn't know anything, that I was a simple minded girl who couldn't tell the difference between a hippogriff and a canary."

A ghost of a smile traced itself on her lips.

 _Simple minded._ It had been the first thing to come to his mind that night. _If Aunt Bellatrix just thinks of Granger as a silly little girl, she'll stop... he had never wanted this. He could still hear her terrible screams, and Weasley's desperate sobs..._

"She ignored him, and he moved forward as if to help me, or to stop Bellatrix- not that there's much he could have done. His father saw his attempt and held him back, with his wife's help. Bellatrix grew angrier and began to use the cruciatus curse on me in a further attempt to force me to confess I'd been inside her vault at Gringotts. Of course, at that time, I hadn't yet broken inside of it yet. Malfoy was begging his father to get the goblin from the cellar, the goblin who could confirm if the sword was real or not. Lucius Malfoy allowed his son to bring him upstairs."

Draco looked away in embarrassment from the gazes that tried to meet his. He could feel Potter's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Draco did not want to hear about how he begged and cried while Granger withstood torture without betraying her friends, or how she stayed loyal to Potter even when the cruciatus curse was used on her by the master of the curse itself, his Auntie Bella.

"They believed Griphook when he told them it was a fake, and summoned Voldemort to the manor. Bellatrix was handing me over to Greyback when Ron and Harry burst in. They fought, with Dobby's help, and we too managed to escape to Shell Cottage."

Granger now looked directly at him. "I personally don't believe Draco ever had a choice in becoming a death eater. When Harry told us of his suspicions during our 6th year, I disregarded him because I didn't believe Lord Voldemort would make an underage wizard a death eater. I was wrong. Lord Voldemort found nothing too sacred or too precious to damage- not even a pure-blooded child of one of his devout followers. Minister- I urge you to remember that Draco was hardly of age during the war-"

"As were you, Ms. Granger- am I incorrect in the knowledge that you, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter set out on your mission to take down Voldemort's regime the day after Mr. Potter turned 17? All of you so young, and yet set in such different directions..."

"Well, yes, we were," her cheeks flushed a deep pink once again, "But we'd had years of guidance, of insider knowledge, of people doing their best to lead us into the light. Draco didn't." and with a stubborn look, she folded her arms across her chest and sat down.

 _Oh, so he was 'Draco' to her now, was he?_ His mind was reeling. How long had she been considering speaking at his trial? Had she come today, not to witness him being sent off to Azkaban, but to try to help him? The boy who had, for years, mocked her for her blood status, for her appearance, for her very existence... He felt dizzy with confusion. What had happened, what had changed in the time that he'd sat in his cell in Azkaban?

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

She sat down in her seat, and the Weasel put his arm around her, whispering quietly in her ear. She leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes, as if absorbing support from him. Draco wondered briefly if they'd finally gotten together, or if their friendship had just gotten a lot stronger after what they'd been through together while on the run.

"We call our second witness for the defense- Mr. Harry James Potter." Shacklebolt announced. "Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot has already reviewed the evidence you submitted to the court in defense of Mr. Malfoy, but it seems you have more to add?"

 _Evidence? Potter had actually gone out of his way to submit evidence on his behalf? What was going on? Surely a dementor must have sucked out his soul and he didn't remember it happening, and he's been left in some fantasy world where nothing makes sense to anyone anymore..._

"Er, yeah, I do," Potter began roughly. "As Hermione said, I don't really believe Malfoy ever wanted to be a death eater. He's a right git, but... but the world isn't divided into good people and death eaters, now, is it?"

He spoke his last line with a remorseful smile.

"It began in our 6th year, I suppose. I discovered on our way to Hogwarts that Malfoy had been branded with the dark mark."

 _Oh, yes- you_ discovered _my dark mark_ thought Draco, snidely, _discovered it by sneaking into my train compartment and eavesdropping over a private conversation..._

"I didn't know, at the time, that Dumbledore was already aware of the fact that Malfoy had been branded. I thought I alone knew and believed the truth. I became obsessed with Malfoy. Trying to find out what he was up to was all I could concentrate on. It drove Ron and Hermione crazy, and Dumbledore would end the subject any time I brought it up." Potter ran his hand through his unkempt hair, looking slightly embarrassed. "Every time I saw him, he looked sicker and sicker. He was alienating himself from his friends, he all but dropped off of Slytherin's quidditch team. He was suffering, and I knew it was Voldemort's doing. I just didn't know the details behind it at the time. I began having him followed."

"You had me _followed,_ Potter?!" Draco said, outraged, before he could stop himself.

"Er... yeah, I did. Sorry about that. Not really, though." he replied with a sheepish expression on his face. "I made a few discoveries this way. I was able to confirm that Malfoy had been given a mission from Lord Voldemort, and it was clear for me to see that whatever his mission was, it wasn't going very well at all. That's when he began to get desperate. He'd been backed into a corner, with no way out. This led to him nearly killing Katie and Ron. It was clear that whatever he was was doing, locked up in the Room of Requirement... it wasn't going well, and he didn't want to be doing it."

Draco froze. Potter was aware of what he was up to the entire time? A feeling of embarrassment, and of shame, began to to creep up his spine. He knew, of course, that Potter was suspicious of him that year... but he had no idea to the extent Potter acted on his suspicions. How closely he watched him. That explained why members of Dumbledore's Army were so conveniently stationed directly outside the Room of Requirement the night he had the death eaters breach the castle.

"Malfoy was also unaware that I was on the astronomy tower with him and Dumbledore the night of Dumbledore's murder, though I was invisible."

Draco must have looked as though a mountain troll had dropped a club on his head. Potter had been there the entire time? Potter had witnessed the truth of what had happened that night?

"We heard Malfoy running up the stairway. Dumbledore petrified me at the last second, so I couldn't intervene. He chose to freeze me instead of protecting himself, and that split second decision allowed Malfoy to burst into the room and disarm him. They spoke for a while, Malfoy's wand trained on Dumbledore the entire time. Dumbledore told Malfoy he need not kill him. I learned... I learned later on that the greatest concern Dumbledore had for Malfoy was that his soul did not get damaged for committing a murder he was forced into."

 _Dumbledore, concerned with the state of_ his _soul?_

"He offered the Malfoy family protection. For the Order to go and collect his mother and father, and hide them together. I watched as Malfoy began to lower his wand. I think he was about to accept Dumbledore's offer- but then a group of death eaters burst into the room, and he was back to where he had started. Dumbledore was wandless, they urged Malfoy to kill him, but he couldn't raise his wand and do it. I think, even if he had cast the spell, it would have done little more than knock Dumbledore off of his feet. You have to mean them, the Unforgivables- otherwise they don't work."

Draco felt heat and color rise to his face. Potter had been there, in person, to witness his greatest moment of weakness... Potter, Potter, Potter- why was it _always_ Potter?! Potter who had found him _crying,_ for Merlin's sake, in the arms of Moaning Myrtle. Potter who had denied his friendship first, Potter who had his father carted off to Azkaban, Potter- who was always surrounded, always loved, always protected. Another sharp pang of jealousy shot through Draco. He could not stand these feelings, and willed them to bury themselves deep inside his core to rot with the rest of the emotions that made him human.

"Snape entered the room, then- and Dumbledore had him perform the duty he'd requested of him nearly a year prior... Dumbledore let Snape kill him- to save Malfoy's soul, to fulfill his unbreakable vow, and to secure the ultimate trust and glory Voldemort would place on him. Dumbledore was already dying. He was greatly weakened that night, and looking back," Potter swallowed, "I think that would have been one of his final nights alive regardless of the killing curse being cast or not."

Draco could not believe what he was hearing. _Snape?_ Snape had been on Dumbledore's side, all along? Snape had been trying to help him, after all, while still extracting information on his plan... on _Dumbledore's orders._ Why hadn't Dumbledore confronted him, killed him, had him locked up? Why had Dumbledore allowed Draco to roam free? None of this made sense, nothing was right, life outside of his parent's house couldn't possibly be so confusing, so twisted up from the truths- or the lies- he'd been taught and told all his life.

"I can attest to what Hermione and Dean have told you about him attempting to lie to cover for us at Malfoy Manor." He paused. "However, I have one more detail to add. We were able to escape after Dobby pulled a chandelier down from the ceiling, forcing everyone to scatter. I saw Malfoy held our acquired wands with his own- we locked eyes. I lunged for him, prepared to fight and he... well, he gave me the wands. Didn't put up a fight, he all but handed them to me. I think that's why his wand worked so well for me. I didn't win it in a duel, or through murdering someone... It was given to me with the blessing of it's true owner."

Draco wished the floor would swallow him alive. Surely a nice floor related death was better than standing in chains listening to Potter announcing to the world, to his _father_ that Draco had freely given him his own wand...

"I don't think he ever wanted any of this, and I think he had to combat years of being taught he was better than others, that he deserved everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. It made him entitled. It made him cruel. I know another boy much like him. They've been misguided. I think he deserves a second chance at life, away from the influence of Voldemort," Potter now looked directly into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, unsmiling, "and away from those who will try to convince him that it matters what a person's blood status is."

Potter held eye contact with Draco's father, saying no more. In a few moments, Lucius broke away from his penetrating gaze, instead choosing to stare at the stone floor. Potter returned to his seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. You've given us much to consider. I will deliberate with the Wizengamot about the sentencing of the Malfoys." the minister gestured at Draco to return to his chair.

The tension in the courtroom broke a bit as the trial came to an end. Some people stood up to stretch their legs, and have open discussions with their neighbors. The moment Draco sat down, all sound went muffled, as if he had cotton in his ears. He wasn't meant to hear the arguments they made before coming to a full decision.

The minister called Potter over, Draco could only assume, to discuss the hearing with him. Was Potter on the Wizengamot now? Surely that would be record-breaker... _Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the Youngest Quidditch Seeker in Over a Century, Now Youngest Wizard to Ever Hold Seat on the Wizengamot!_ Draco could already see the headlines. He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he could down a sleeping draught in one, or use an extendable ear to hear the deliberations of the court. Try as he might, he could not hear what they were saying among themselves.

He looked around to see what the consensus might be. There were a few witches and wizards who were red faced, clearly angry. Some looked more pensive, some looked sad. Most, though, looked tired. That seemed to be the overall energy of everyone in the ministry right now. Tired. Draco could relate to that.

They debated among themselves for a long time. There were no clocks in the room, but Draco still felt the first hour pass, then the second, and the third... he'd watched Potter stand up and pace, and throw his arms up in the air in frustration, while a fearful looking Granger attempted to calm him down. _Brash, Potter- too bad I don't know if I want to cheer on what you're saying or hex your mouth shut..._ The Weasel looked morose and serious, and rather angry. He seemed to be restraining himself. Draco guessed that he disagreed with his friends' choice to stand witness, but honored their decisions nonetheless. Arthur Weasley looked a bit... well, sad. Draco found that interesting. It's no secret how Mr. Weasley felt about his father... their mutual feelings of hatred and extraordinarily different values had made them an incompatible and petty pair. Then Draco remembered... his son had died. One of the twins, two years above him in school. Draco had seen his body laid out in the Great Hall. Perhaps that's why his eyes seemed so distant from the going-ons of the Wizengamot's arguments.

Draco sat up a bit straighter as everyone began to return to their seats. Some, with expressions of satisfaction, as if they knew their side had been heard and agreed upon. Others were somber, and a few were downright angry. The Lovegood girl merely looked as if she were daydreaming happily, and when he made eye contact with her, she waved. He looked away quickly, a slow blush creeping up his neck. He saw more malevolent glares shot at himself and his mother than they did at his father. That surprised Draco, whose father had significantly more charges than he himself did.

The moment the minister returned to his seat, the silencing spell was lifted.

"The Wizengamot have reached their decision"

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A note from the author:

 _Phew! What an intense way to start a story, right? I wonder what the Wizengamot have decided upon... maybe they'll turn the Malfoy family into ferrets and have them life the rest of their lives in a muggle zoo? Or force them all to permanently dye their left eyebrows yellow? I suppose we'll have to wait and see..._

You've just finished reading my first ever fan fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this story. I was very nervous to submit it, and must have read and reread it a hundred times before finally biting the bullet and choosing to post it. It turns out editing is a lot harder than I thought it would be! There are so many minute details to research and remember.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making it to the bottom of the page.

-CM


	2. Chapter 2: A Second Chance

Chapter 2

A Second Chance

There was a long list of places Harry Potter would rather be right now, than sitting, once again, on the stone benches of Courtroom Ten. Unlike the first time he'd come here to be tried against, Harry was now a sitting member of the court (for now, at least- he still wasn't sure if he'd be keeping the position.). He'd already attended so many trials that they've now turned into a purple and silver blur of accusations and affrontations.

This trial, however, was guaranteed to stand out more than all the others. Not only had it garnered massive amounts of attention from the press and from high standing members of the community, but it was the first that Harry himself would be standing as witness for the defense. He was stepping up to speak not just for Narcissa Malfoy, but for Draco Malfoy as well. This was not yet widely known to the public, and would be sure to set the Daily Prophet on a field day. The disdain between the two young boys had been not been kept secret over their years together at Hogwarts.

Harry tried not to cringe in embarrassment at the memory of naming Malfoy his _arch enemy_ before they were even teenagers. As if Harry hadn't had Voldemort to fill in that position already. Granted, Malfoy had never been particularly likable, and had certainly spent quite a bit of time over the years making Harry, Ron, and Hermione's school lives more difficult and nasty than they had to be- but now that they were out of school, their childish fighting that would have once riled him up only made him feel a bit ashamed. He thought of duels, of name calling, of the _Potter Stinks_ badges and a handful of Quidditch matches that stood out to him.

He shook his head in an attempt to remove the embarrassing memories from his mind and remind himself that he'd grown up since then. He'd thought he'd hate Dudley forever too, hadn't he? But Harry found himself quite unable to unearth any hatred towards anyone anymore. Those who he would have saved his hatred for- Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange- they were dead, and they weren't worth wasting the energy on. Those that survived, that were still branded as enemies towards him, he simply felt a cold indifference to. He found this slightly more frightening than outright hatred. It was easy to understand and accept anger towards someone, but when he thought of Vernon Dursley, or the Carrows- he just found himself satiated by the fact that he'd never have to see any of them again. He felt the same way towards Lucius Malfoy.

He found he could not summon an ounce of pity for the patriarch of the Malfoy family. Try as he wanted to, he couldn't care less if the man rotted away in Azkaban for the rest of his life. He was sick, twisted, manipulative- and worst of all, smart. His cunning mind and sharp tongue had allowed him to slither his way out of countless tight situations with clever words and sacks of galleons... but things were different now. Teenagers sat on the seats of the Wizengamot, with Kingsley and Arthur running things, two men who would not be easily persuaded or fooled.

Harry felt himself beginning to grow impatient. Hermione and Ron sat in their usual places on his right hand side. They'd been called as witnesses in so many trials that they ought to be charged rent for the amount of time they've been spending on these stone benches. This time, however, Dean and Luna joined them to testify about their kidnapping ordeal. Harry fidgeted. He just wanted to return to the Burrow and get some rest. He'd thought that after the sun set after the day of the battle of Hogwarts, he'd finally be able to just _relax._ What a joke that was. Being on the run and living in a tent almost felt less tiring than the constant steam of trials, laws, job offers, interviews, hexes, and marriage proposals that had come his way since the war ended.

He fantasized briefly about sneaking into the Department of Mysteries and taking a nice nap in the planet room, weightless and relaxed. Surely no one would notice his absence, right?

He sighed. Of course they would.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked him, looking worried. "Not having second thoughts, are you?"

"Nah, I'm just so t-t-tired," Harry replied, failing to stifle a yawn.

"I know," she said, fretfully. "I am too. And this is certainly guaranteed to be a lengthy trial, isn't it?"

"To say the least, Hermione." Harry said, letting his mind wander as his eyes gazed, unfocused, on a tuft of Ollivander's snow white hair. There would be no time for rest and relaxation, regardless. In two days time, he would be returning to Hogwarts to assist with the repairs to the grounds, as well as making decisions about a memorial service. It was, perhaps, long overdue- but the castle had laid abandoned in the past few months as McGonagall recovered from her injuries in St. Mungos, and as nobody wanted to go near the castle and be reminded of the deaths that had happened inside her walls.

The volunteers were to not only help with physical repairs, but to also remove all traces of dark magic and residue the Carrows had left behind. It would be no easy task to undo the darkness and damages that had been done to the building. Harry's heart pounded at the idea of going back to the castle. He'd decided not to continue his studies- opting instead to take one of the job offers he'd received at the ministry. They'd said that his field training and the defeat of Voldemort was as good of a resume as all getting all O's on his N.E. .

Still though, it hadn't been an easy decision to go straight into the workforce- much less for the ministry. It was interesting, the way things had worked out- Harry, who had been battling against the ministry for the better part of four and a half years, now found himself an incredibly prominent asset to many ministry proceedings. From being appointed as a member of the Wizengamot, to closely working with the remaining trustworthy aurors, to finally allowing himself to become an actively public icon of support and optimism for the witches and wizards of Britain.

He hadn't wanted to take the mascot position. It was easy to decline Rufus Scrimgeour when he had asked Harry to show the public he approved of the ministry's doings; at the time, the corruption inside the ministry had been running rampant. False imprisonments, imperious curses, fascist leaders- all within the very walls of the government of wizarding Britain. When it was Kingsley who was asking, it had been harder to decline. He'd mulled it over for a few days before Ron had finally whacked him upside the head, told him to stop being so thick and just get it done.

One of the most tremendous changes that Harry had been petitioning for was the right to fair and thorough trials for every person who'd been accused of crimes during the Second Wizarding War. He knew this would inevitably lead to a few guilty men and women roaming free, but the alternative- a few innocent witches and wizards being imprisoned- was far worse. Barty Crouch's drastic attempts at righteousness proved that throwing people in jail on presumptions would fail the system terribly. Harry was forced to remember Sirius had been chucked to the dementors without a trial, and suffered alone for twelve long years. Aurors had been given automatic right to kill, torture and control their quarry, and death eaters fought back against them twice as hard. It wasn't worth the wasted lives, even to throw people Harry personally knew as guilty into Azkaban.

While the systematic corruption was still strong in the ministry, the efforts over the past few months of himself, Hermione, Ron, Kingsley, Arthur and many other survivors of the war were slowly stripping away the prejudices embedded deep inside the ministry. It was exhausting, and oftentimes unrewarding work. He'd been living at The Burrow since he'd left life on the run, on the insistence of Ron and Molly.

"Until you find yourself settled in," Molly had said, fussing over him at every chance. Ron and Hermione had left for a little while to track down her parents in Australia, and Harry shrewdly guessed that Molly was bereft without at least one son at home to fret over. When Harry wasn't working (which was nearly never), he would spend his free time in the company of Ginny and Luna, who lived close by to the Burrow. It had been nice, being able to come home every night to people who cared about him, and who had no expectations for him to be anyone but himself.

Even then, he knew that it would be time to decide upon a living situation for himself very soon. He found, however, that none appealed to him. He hadn't spoken to the Dursleys since they'd been fetched from their hiding place and returned to their home. He had certainly never considered returning to them, regardless. He swore the last he'd ever see of Number 4, Privet Drive was the final fleeting look he'd given it when he'd risen in the air in the sidecar of Hagrid's motorbike.

He knew Molly would let him stay in her home indefinitely. Even then, though- he didn't truly belong. It was one thing, spending his summers with the Weasleys when he was younger, with The Burrow so full that they'd often have to dine in the garden just to find room enough to sit. It was rather somber with just Arthur and Molly in the house that suddenly felt too big and empty. No longer were members of the Order of the Phoenix coming and going at all hours of the day. Everyone who'd survived had returned to the lives they'd had at a time before Harry had known them, before the war had started. Even Ginny's bright presence in the house wasn't enough to fill the dark void that had been growing inside of him.

There was also 12 Grimmauld Place, which still belonged to him. Kreacher had surely been keeping it in excellent condition, ready for his master to return at any moment to a spotless kitchen and warm fire burning in the grate. But he couldn't bring himself to return to the home that Sirius had been so miserable in, and that he had been forced out of by death eaters.

Harry was lost in his reverie when he heard the sound of the heavy door below them opening, and in strode Mafalda Hopkirk- Hermione turned a bit pink when looking at her, as she always did- with a guard of aurors and the Malfoys. Although his parents only looked ahead, Draco Malfoy glanced around at his surroundings. Harry doubted whether he had ever been in this room before. He was reminded of how it felt, walking in here alone for the hearing against him when he was only 15 years old.

He watched Malfoy settle into his chair, casting a fearful glance at the chains as they bound him tighter. He did not look well. His hair, normally slicked back in a careful style was overgrown and unkempt. Without the usual effort applied to it, Malfoy looked younger than ever. His cheeks were hollow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Harry was sure Malfoy had lost a significant amount of weight, but it was hard to tell in his disheveled gray Azkaban robes. Harry had appealed to the ministry, attempting to move his trial up sooner so Malfoy didn't have to sit in Azkaban, but the notoriety of his parents crimes had forced the Wizengamot to wait, and to collect all available evidence against them.

He didn't want to feel guilty about that, but he did. Malfoy no longer looked like the snide little ferret he'd been in their younger years. It appeared as though his he'd been humbled by his stay in Azkaban. Gone was his usual bold expression and the swagger he would walk with. He looked more like a damaged boy who had never had a chance at a life, no matter how pure a silver spoon he'd been fed with as a child. It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling for Harry to feel pity towards Malfoy, and not repulsion or anger. He thought of how Sirius and Snape had held grudges against each other for their entire lives. Harry, quite frankly, didn't fancy the idea of having schoolboy grudge lasting for another ten long years.

Kingsley called the trial to order, beginning with the questioning of Lucius Malfoy. Harry balled his fists up, listening to him confess to atrocities he'd committed as if they were nothing. As if he hadn't attempted to surrender Harry to Voldemort with every opportunity he had. Harry dug deep into his soul once more, trying to find a piece of pity for the man who was being tried below him, and once again found nothing. Maybe he should have been sorted into Slytherin, after all. Too late for that now anyways.

He'd decided not to speak at Lucius's trial, even though he could have added to his kidnapping charge, and maybe even get a few "attempted murders" thrown in the pot as well. Instead, he gave a written testimony to the Wizengamot, but refused to press charges himself. Ron and Hermione followed his lead out of solidarity. Even without standing as a speaking witness, the pile of charges facing Lucius Malfoy meant he certainly wouldn't be getting off very easily- especially with both Harry and Arthur being deciding members of his fate.

At the mention of the witnesses, Malfoy's head suddenly whipped around, searching the stands. His eyes landed on the small party of Hogwarts students Harry sat in the midst of. His eyes widened in cold surprise when he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione sitting with Dean and Luna.

"Slimy little git." Ron commented, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy. Harry privately agreed, although in an attempt to remain diplomatic he chose not to say anything.

As Harry had expected, no one stood in defense for Lucius Malfoy. Those who had once involved themselves with the Malfoy family had done all they could to remove themselves from association with the family name. Harry expected that there were very few people in the room who didn't know him, although none of them gave any signs (with the exception of a few expressions one might make as if they'd stepped in a pile of thestral droppings bare-footed) that they knew who he was.

Lucius Malfoy spoke very little in his own defense, attempting an air of indifference that was spoiled by the greenish tint of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. _Oh yes,_ thought Harry, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, _surely you hadn't the slightest idea that you'd have a warrant out for your arrest._

"Your testimony has been noted onto the record." Kingsley announced, before turning to confer with Percy and Mafalda.

"I bet he's just gotten himself out of a charge, pretending not to know we were looking for him.'" Ron whispered over to him, "Luckily dad won't let things slide so easily..."

Harry nodded solemnly. Arthur would see right through all of Lucius Malfoy's schemes.

Ollivander stood to speak his piece, looking as if a slight breeze would knock him down. Harry let out a long, inward sigh. The man hadn't improved much since leaving Shell Cottage. He'd had to remain in hiding with the Weasleys, unable to seek the medical attention he'd needed until the damage became worse. Molly, for her part, had certainly taken good care of him- glad for someone to fuss over and feed other than her own nerve-wracked family. The temperature seemed to plummet in the court room as he provided the gruesome details behind his capture and imprisonment in the Malfoy Manor cellar. He told the court what Harry had known, how Voldemort sought a wand more powerful than any other, and would stop at no means to obtain it...

There were many looks shot his way at the mention of the Elder Wand. It was known, now, what had happened- with what wand Voldemort had used to duel Harry. Few people understood the concept of wand alliance, or if they did, chose to ignore it and instead concentrate on the fact that the Boy Who Lived defeated the darkest sorcerer in history with an Ollivander wand. Harry smiled slightly- surely, that would be good for business at Ollivander's shop, right?

"Thank you minister." Harry nearly jumped, pulled out of his reverie, as Luna stood up right next to him. "That was very well said, Mr. Ollivander."

Luna, for her part, had seemed to make a full recovery. Harry had known, of course, how hardy she was, and how difficult she would have been to break. He did wonder whether or not there was any damage, deep down inside of her, that she had not allowed anyone to see. This summer, he'd been spending a lot more time with her- she was so close to The Burrow, where he'd been staying. She'd come over for games of quidditch, or just to spend time with him and Ginny whenever he'd managed to find a moment of freedom.

"Well, lets see..." Luna gave her firsthand account of her own ordeal. Harry smiled when she mentioned the D.A. Fighting for her. Of course they would have. They mustn't have been very happy when she'd surrendered herself- he was downright curious as to how _that_ conversation must have gone. Her father had been one of the first to be released from Azkaban when Kingsley dispatched a team of Aurors to the fortress to release the falsely imprisoned witches and wizards.

Harry was impressed that she was managing to regale her tale in her usually dreamy, singsong voice. It was hard to resist her charm, once you'd gotten used to her peculiar ways. Many of the members of the Wizengamot cast her indulgent looks when she acknowledged her Hogwarts house, Ravenclaw. Almost the entire Wizengamot was Hogwarts alumni, many of them likely part of Ravenclaw themselves. Their expressions quickly changed, however, when Luna spoke of the state she'd found Ollivander in when she'd been imprisoned with him.

He felt Hermione shift uncomfortably next to him as they were brought into the story, and Luna gave her account of Hermione's torture. Ron grabbed her hand swiftly (A move, Harry was sure, that Ron had perfected after many rereads of _Twelve Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches)._ Harry watched Malfoy cringe when Luna mentioned Dobby's death. Of course, he would have known Dobby quite well. A surge of anger poured through Harry, as he was forced to wonder just how poorly Malfoy would have treated the elf.

Luna then sat down, and Dean was called to testify. Harry had been wracked with guilt, wondering if he'd made the right choice not confronting Dean that night they hid in the same forest. He'd been so happy, so relieved to hear a familiar voice- but at the same time, to expose himself would have put not only Dean, but Ted and Dirk at a terrible risk as well. Harry felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that, had the goblins not been with them, he might have been much more willing to reveal himself to the wizards. They'd been desperate to hear of news from the outside world, to find out who had lived and who had died since they'd been on the run.

Dean recounted how close he'd grown with Dirk Cresswell. Harry was surprised, but he supposed that being on the run together would have made them develop some sort of relationship. It was amazing that they had managed to find each other at all. Dean had been running already when Dirk had escaped the guard that was escorting him to Azkaban by stunning Dawlish, a ministry auror.

Harry cringed hearing about Ted's death. Tonks must have been devastated, and Andromeda as well. He hadn't lived to see his grandson, Harry's godson, born. Teddy would, at least, carry on his memory as his namesake. Teddy had been a very happy baby so far- too young to remember his lost parents. He only knew love, the love that was freely given to him not only from Andromeda and Harry, but also from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (Who had almost felt like they'd been graced with a grandchild.) and the surviving members of the Order. He'd charmed everyone who met him, soon having them wrapped around his tiny pinky finger.

Luna held Dean's rough hand in hers when his voice began to shake. It took a special kind of bravery, to stand there in front of so many people and tell them the details of battles they had fought in the war. Harry remembered how it had felt when Dumbledore had forced him to reveal every minute detail of the horrifying events that unfolded during the Triwizard Tournament, of Voldemort's resurrection and of Cedric's death, when all Harry had wanted to do was sleep for a hundred years.

Arthur, who'd been a close friend of Dirk Cresswell, bowed his head when hearing how he had died like a man, in the heat of battle- unwilling to leave Dean behind, defenseless. Harry was sure that Arthur would be telling Dirk's children about his bravery when they were older, more ready to hear about the man their father had been, and how courageously he'd acted in the face of prejudice.

Harry carefully studied the Malfoys' faces when Dean told his story. Narcissa managed to keep her disinterested facade strong. Lucius continued to look sickly. Malfoy seemed mildly surprised at some tidbit of information he heard. Then, suddenly, he snapped to attention when Dean brought his name into the proceedings.

Harry studied him even more closely now. Dean was about to mention one of the key points Harry had submitted for defensive evidence. He'd not asked him to- indeed, he hadn't even brought up the idea of defending Malfoy to Dean- but it seemed that Dean's sense of justice was stronger than Harry realized, and he too felt that Malfoy's moment of solidarity with the captured Gryffindors deserved recognition.

Lucius stared at his son, and Harry was shocked to see a deep disdain brewing in his eyes. It was not a look a man should give his son. Harry was horribly reminded of the way his uncle Vernon would look at him after a long day at work. Whether due to the intensity of his father's gaze, or his inability to hold eye contact with Dean any longer, Malfoy tore his eyes away from Dean and focused instead on the stone floor in front of him. Dean returned to his seat shortly thereafter.

They began to question Lucius Malfoy about less recent events, dating back to Harry's fifth year. He'd been the one to submit most of the evidence against Lucius for his wrongdoings that year, as he'd had insight into Voldemort's mind and the intel of the Order to help him piece things together that no one else could.

"Mr. Malfoy, I ask that you pull your robe back from your left arm and display it to the courtroom"

After a defiant hesitation, Lucius Malfoy revealed his dark mark to the court. It was pitch black on his skin, as it was when Voldemort would call his death eaters to his side. It had not faded nor dulled in the slightest since his death. After a dismissal by Kingsley, Lucius returned to his seat and was bound once more.

"Mrs. Malfoy, if you'd please stand."

 _This was it._ Harry felt his nerves go on end, as if he was about to enter an extremely important quidditch match that he had forgotten to train for. The Wizengamot had watched him plenty of times as witness for the prosecution, but for them to see him offering witness to the defense against a known collaborator of Voldemort was sure to raise a few eyebrows. He'd confided his plans already with Ron and Hermione, who had also encouraged him to break the news to Kingsley, Arthur, Mafalda, and Percy as well- lest one of them lose their edge and accuse him of being a Potter impersonator infiltrating the court.

"...Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"

Harry stood abruptly, before his cowardice overcame him.

"Yes." Was all he said. As predicted, loud voices erupted around him, in various states of confusion and shock. Harry took advantage of the momentary chaos to wipe his sweaty hands onto his robes.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter as a witness for the defense. Mr. Potter, you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes."

Harry sat back down, and stared firmly at the wall opposite him. The room fell silent in anticipation as Shacklebolt's eyes returned to Narcissa's. Her questioning would be much shorter than her husband's, as there had been minimal evidence- eyewitness accounts only- against her. She had not participated so boldly in the war as her sister did, instead standing on the sidelines allowing destruction to unfold in front of her while she kept her own hands clean.

Ron grimaced when Arthur spoke against her. Hermione had been supportive of Harry's choice to stand witness, but Ron had a much more difficult time of it. The Weasley family had more of a personal grudge against the Malfoy family; one that had extended for generations, leading back to their exile from the Sacred Twenty Eight. Ron had not forgotten, nor had he forgiven, any of the Malfoys' past actions against his family and his friends.

Narcissa was commanded to reveal her left forearm, where she was able to prove she was not a death eater with her milky white skin standing pure and clear. That alone was sure to be a key part of the decision that was made against her.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Harry James Potter as witness for the defense," Mafalda's voice rang out clearly, signaling for Harry to stand.

He took a deep breath.

"When I walked into the Forbidden Forest in the early hours of May 2nd," Harry began, "I found myself standing face to face with Voldemort, surrounded by a circle of death eaters and their sympathizers. Voldemort shot the killing curse at me. It hit me square in the chest."

Shock rippled through the courtroom. Harry had neglected to publicly announce that he'd been cursed point blank and survived the Avada Kedavra not once, but twice in his life, until this moment. He'd even been given another lightning bolt scar. It was enough already that he had had one on his forehead as proof he'd survived the killing curse, but if people caught wind of the one on his chest he'd have to get that Hungarian Horntail tattoo Ginny had gone on about in his sixth year just to cover the damn thing up. He hadn't wanted to tell anyone the details of what had happened, but that was a very key part in Narcissa's defense that could not be left out.

"I don't know if I died and came back, or if I never really died. Either way, after..." Harry paused. He certainly wasn't ready to reveal what had happened to him, whether in his mind or not, when he was unconscious in the forest. "When I woke up again, Voldemort himself had also been thrown back. He was afraid he had failed again. He sent Narcissa Malfoy to confirm whether or not I was dead."

All eyes in the courtroom flickered between Harry and Narcissa. A shocked silence rang out after he confessed to her betrayal of Voldemort and her devotion to her son, and of her unexpected compassion towards Harry. He tried to help them come to the realization that Tom Riddle would still be alive, still be a menace, if she hadn't chosen to switch sides in the very end. He sat down to the courtroom in a stunned silence.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Shacklebolt said at last. "Mrs. Malfoy- you... you may have a seat."

Harry watched Malfoy's hands begin to shake. It was his turn to be questioned. Harry couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind right now. He stood when called, and Harry thought for a second he would be sick right there on the dungeon floor in witness of the full Wizengamot.

"You are Draco Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"

Malfoy nodded, seemingly unable to respond.

"Mr. Malfoy, you stand accused of treason and conspiring against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind with Lord Voldemort. Furthermore, you stand accused of being an accomplice to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for the attempted murders of Ronald Billius Weasley and Kathleen Elizabeth Bell, for illegal use of the imperious curse, and for the crime of being a Death Eater." Kingsley glanced at the large pile of parchment in front of him, frowning. "Evidence has been collected by our auror department to be brought against you in trial. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"

Harry's nerves spiked again as he cast a sideways glance at Hermione. She had her mouth set in a thin, determined line. Harry watched as Malfoy closed his eyes, looking more alone in the world than anyone Harry had ever seen before. He could not imagine standing down there alone, without a single person to offer him support. He and Hermione both stood at the exact same time.

"Yes."

Malfoy's head whipped around, and he stared right at Harry in shock. His eyes flickered to Hermione and Ron before returning to Harry. He looked utterly confused and a little bit frightened to see them standing there, declaring themselves on his side. Harry would have paid fifty galleons to be able to use legilimency on his mind right then.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Hermione Jean Granger as witnesses for the defense. Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger- you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes." They returned to their seats, Hermione blushing furiously.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you, or have you ever been, a death eater?" Arthur asked first, staring directly at Malfoy.

Malfoy swallowed thickly before answering. "Yes."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. He shot a grim look towards Harry and shook his head in dismay. There had been many discussions and debates about whether or not Malfoy had been fully inducted as a death eater. Harry had been sure, since the beginning of term of his sixth year, that Malfoy had the dark mark. When it came to light that Malfoy was definitely acting on Voldemort's orders, many members of the Order of the Phoenix, Arthur included, still seemed to think he hadn't been fully inducted as an actual death eater, but merely carrying out orders, much like Fenrir Greyback.

This certainly did not bode well for him. Malfoy's charges were already massive, but there had yet to be a death eater alive and caught who had not been given a life sentence in Azkaban prison for the crime of being branded.

"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore on Lord Voldemort's orders?" Kingsley asked, peering down at him. Requesting Malfoy's account was merely a formality, as Harry had testified on his behalf already in regards to Dumbledore's murder. Harry would have to offer the court a verbal summary of the details he'd provided them for the matter of court record, and to ensure that their stories added up.

Malfoy told the story of that night in the Astronomy tower from his point of view. How he'd hesitated, but been trapped- forced to act by a group of death eaters. How he'd brought them into the castle himself, effectively sealing his own fate.

"Did you perform the imperious curse on Madame Rosmerta, the landlady of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade?" Mafalda asked Malfoy in a clipped and disapproving tone.

"I did."

"And did you instruct her, under the imperious curse, to give Kathleen Bell a cursed necklace that you had purchased at Borgin and Burkes?" she continued.

"Yes."

Harry let out a long, inward sigh. Everyone had denied that Malfoy could have possibly arranged for the necklace to enter Hogwarts, and Harry had remained resolute in the belief that Malfoy had been behind these actions. He recalled Ron and Hermione avoiding eye contact with him, out of embarrassment, when he told McGonagall about his theories.

"Did you also have her poison a bottle of mead, to be sent to Albus Dumbledore, that instead ended up poisoning and nearly taking the life of Ronald Weasley instead?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly. Clever, really, that Arthur would be the one to ask that question. It was sure to fill Malfoy with more remorse than he already seemed to have.

"I... I did." Malfoy's voice was scarcely loud enough to be heard.

"Two lives were almost lost due to your reckless behavior and your inconsideration for the lives that surrounded you. If it wasn't for the quick action of other students and teachers, they would have died at your hands. Do you understand that?" Kingsley chastised him, as if he were a professor issuing a detention instead of the Minister prosecuting a criminal.

"I do." Malfoy replied, bowing his head.

"Please show us your left forearm, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy raised his sleeve, and displayed his dark mark for the Wizengamot to see. He himself looked away, as if he could not bear to see the mark on his skin. Harry found himself once again feeling a bit sorry for Malfoy, sitting down there all alone, being forced to reveal his darkest, innermost secrets.

"Did you knowingly and willingly take up arms and receive orders to fight for the cause of Lord Voldemort, Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley asked.

"No. I didn't want to fight." Malfoy closed his eyes. "In the summer before my sixth year at Hogwarts, I was forced to receive the mark on my arm by the Dark Lord. My mother... she believed it was to punish my father for having failed him in the Department of Mysteries some months prior. He told me I had a special mission... to kill Albus Dumbledore. He said if I did not, he would slaughter my entire family, without mercy."

Harry sat forward, on the edge of his seat at these words. The pieces of the puzzle that had been missing were slowly being pieced together. Malfoy looked at him, and Harry attempted to make a reassuring expression, but had the feeling he looked more as if he'd ingested an unhealthy amount of U-No-Poo instead.

"Do you have any final words to say in your defense?" Shacklebolt asked.

Malfoy hesitated. "Only... only that I never wanted to be a death eater, but I had to choose between being branded or my family dying. I never had a choice. Not really."

Shacklebolt stared down at him. "No further questions. We call our first witness for the defense- Ms. Hermione Jean Granger."

Hermione stood, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Harry knew how difficult this day was going to be for her. She hadn't wanted to discuss with Harry and Ron what she planned on saying today as to not have to relive her ordeal more than was necessary. She began by speaking of their capture, of casting the stinging hex on Harry, and of Malfoy being called into the room to identify the group of Gryffindor students.

 _"_ He said he wasn't sure if Harry was, well, Harry- but of course he must have known, don't you see? He'd have known right away that it was him, with the amount of time in our school year they spent glaring at each other and fighting. Of course, I had no disguise and nor did Ron or Dean... he also would have recognized us on sight. When asked if I was the girl known to be traveling with Harry, he told them he wasn't sure." she looked directly at Malfoy as she spoke these words, "I realized then, that he... he wasn't in a situation he wanted to be in. There was nothing more he could do for us, however, than to act ignorant. He couldn't have released us, there were too many to fight, and the ones he'd have to fight were his family..."

Malfoy looked upset at the mention of his family. Harry couldn't blame him. He'd thought Aunt Marge was bad... but she'd at least never tortured any of his schoolmates.

"Regardless, they quickly realized who we were," Hermione continued, "but Bellatrix Lestrange spied the sword of Godric Gryffindor. She could not call Voldemort without first discovering whether or not it was the real one, or if it was a copy. It was supposed to be safely hidden away in her vault in Gringotts. It was I she chose to question. Ron and Harry were dragged away from me. That's when... that's when Bellatrix began to try to force me to reveal information to her."

Hermione's face went pale, and she stared at the wall opposite her, not seeming to actually see it. Luna began to swat for wrackspurts when Hermione seemed to lose her train of thought.

"She had a silver knife," Hermione whispered, "It was small, but she knew how to use it." Harry wanted to close his eyes, to look away from what she was about to reveal, but he would not do that to Hermione. She displayed her arm, mangled and scarred, to the court. The word _mudblood_ carved grotesquely into her flesh.

It brought a great sense of shame to Harry to see this scar. When Dobby had apparated them to Shell cottage, he had only briefly inquired about Hermione's state before he was overcome with Dobby's death. Ron had carried her inside and Fleur, though an extremely skillful witch, was not a trained healer by any means. She did the best she could to heal Hermione's arm, while Ron held her; and although she was barely able to stay upright, she'd begged Ron and Fleur not to tell Harry, not to share with him what had happened to her while they were downstairs.

Hermione knew him well, of course- so well that Harry would have blamed himself and left Shell Cottage, leaving them behind in safety. It was his fault they'd gotten caught, his fault he'd broken the taboo. It was he who called Dobby for help, pulling him from the safety of the Hog's Head. They hid the truth from Harry until last week, when Ron and Hermione sat him down to break the truth to him before she went public with the information. The scars might never fade completely.

A very faint smile appeared on her lips when she recounted Malfoy calling her simple. It was an interesting tactic he'd chosen- of course he'd been in enough classes to know how clever a witch Hermione was- but if Bellatrix thought she was just an idiotic young witch she might have spared her some recounted how Malfoy had to be held back from interceding, and begged to have Griphook summoned.

Harry stared at Malfoy, who was refusing to make eye contact with anybody. What was it about Slytherins that led them to believe there was shame in helping others? In caring about others?

"...and we too managed to escape to Shell Cottage." Hermione stared directly at Malfoy. "I personally don't believe Draco ever had a choice in becoming a death eater. When Harry told us of his suspicions during our 6th year, I disregarded him because I didn't believe Lord Voldemort would make an underage wizard a death eater. I was wrong. Lord Voldemort found nothing too sacred or too precious to damage- not even a pure-blooded child of one of his devout followers. Minister- I urge you to remember that Draco was hardly of age during the war-"

"As were you, Ms. Granger- am I incorrect in the knowledge that you, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter set out on your mission to take down Voldemort's regime the day after Mr. Potter turned 17? All of you so young, and yet set in such different directions..."

"Well, yes, we were," her cheeks flushed a deep pink once again, "but we'd had years of guidance, of insider knowledge, of people doing their best to lead us into the light. Draco didn't." and with a stubborn look, she folded her arms across her chest and sat down.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

"That was brilliant, Hermione." Ron told her quietly, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to him. "Absolutely brilliant."

"We call our second witness for the defense- Mr. Harry James Potter." Shacklebolt announced. "Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot has already reviewed the evidence you submitted to the court in defense of Mr. Malfoy, but it seems you have more to add?"

Harry had brought in Malfoy's wand for inspection 3 weeks ago. Unlike Lucius Malfoy, whose wand was destroyed, Malfoy's wand was able to be inspected and show variable proof that he'd not used it to cast any killing curses.

 _"_ Er, yeah, I do," he began. "As Hermione said, I don't really believe Malfoy ever wanted to be a death eater. He's a right git, but... but the world isn't divided into good people and death eaters, now, is it?"

Harry didn't miss the stern look Mr. Weasley shot him for using the word "git" in an official testimony.

"It began in our 6th year, I suppose. I discovered on our way to Hogwarts that Malfoy had been branded with the dark mark. I didn't know, at the time, that Dumbledore was already aware of the fact that Malfoy had been branded. I thought I alone knew and believed the truth. I became... obsessed with Malfoy." _To put it lightly._

 _"_ Trying to find out what he was up to was all I could concentrate on. It drove Ron and Hermione crazy, and Dumbledore would end the subject any time I brought it up." Embarrassed, he ran his hand through his untidy black hair. "Every time I saw him, he looked sicker and sicker. He was alienating himself from his friends, he all but dropped off of Slytherin's quidditch team. He was suffering, and I knew it was Voldemort's doing. I just didn't know the details behind it at the time. I began having him followed."

"You had me _followed,_ Potter?!" Malfoy all but shouted at him. Oops.

"Er... yeah, I did. Sorry about that. Not really, though." he replied, vowing to never reveal to Malfoy that he'd sicked two house elves on him. "I made a few discoveries this way. I was able to confirm that Malfoy had been given a mission from Lord Voldemort, and it was clear for me to see that whatever his mission was, it wasn't going very well at all. That's when he began to get desperate. He'd been backed into a corner, with no way out. This led to him nearly killing Katie and Ron. It was clear that whatever he was was doing, locked up in the Room of Requirement... it wasn't going well, and he didn't want to be doing it."

Harry could only too clearly remember Malfoy, alone in a bathroom with Moaning Myrtle, inconsolable.

"Malfoy was also unaware that I was on the astronomy tower with him and Dumbledore the night of Dumbledore's murder, though I was invisible."

Malfoy's mouth fell open in shock. He looked dumbfounded, as if this was the last thing he'd expected to come out of Harry's mouth.

"We heard Malfoy running up the stairway. Dumbledore petrified me at the last second," Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. "so I couldn't intervene. He chose to freeze me instead of protecting himself, and that split second decision allowed Malfoy to burst into the room and disarm him. They spoke for a while, Malfoy's wand trained on Dumbledore the entire time. Dumbledore told Malfoy he need not kill him. I learned... I learned later on that the greatest concern Dumbledore had for Malfoy was that his soul did not get damaged for committing a murder he was forced into."

Dumbledore, planning with Snape to make sure that Malfoy remained whole and in tact... Dumbledore, choosing how to die so Malfoy wouldn't have to suffer, half a man, for the rest of his life...

"He offered the Malfoy family protection. For the Order to go and collect his mother and father, and hide them together. I watched as Malfoy began to lower his wand. I think he was about to accept Dumbledore's offer- but then a group of death eaters burst into the room, and he was back to where he had started. Dumbledore was wandless, they urged Malfoy to kill him, but he couldn't raise his wand and do it. I think, even if he had cast the spell, it would have done little more than knock Dumbledore off of his feet. You have to mean them, the Unforgivables- otherwise they don't work."

Malfoy was now the same color Uncle Vernon often turned right before he began to pull out tufts of mustache hair.

"Snape entered the room, then- and Dumbledore had him perform the duty he'd requested of him nearly a year prior... Dumbledore let Snape kill him- to save Malfoy's soul, to fulfill his unbreakable vow, and to secure the ultimate trust and glory Voldemort would place on him. Dumbledore was already dying. He was greatly weakened that night, and looking back," He swallowed, "I think that would have been one of his final nights alive regardless of the killing curse being cast or not."

Harry continued.

"I can attest to what Hermione and Dean have told you about him attempting to lie to cover for us at Malfoy Manor." He paused. "However, I have one more detail to add. We were able to escape after Dobby pulled a chandelier down from the ceiling, forcing everyone to scatter. I saw Malfoy held our acquired wands with his own- we locked eyes. I lunged for him, prepared to fight and he... well, he gave me the wands. Didn't put up a fight, he all but handed them to me. I think that's why his wand worked so well for me. I didn't win it in a duel, or through murdering someone... It was given to me with the blessing of it's true owner."

Harry remembered how pleased he'd been when he'd found Malfoy's wand had worked for him just as well as Hermione's had. He had asked Ollivander about wand allegiances, but it wasn't till further discussion with the elder man and the seizing of the elder wand that he came to the full understanding that allegiances can be won in more ways than by defeating a wizard and taking his wand away.

"I don't think he ever wanted any of this, and I think he had to combat years of being taught he was better than others, that he deserved everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. It made him entitled. It made him cruel. I know another boy much like him. They've been misguided. I think he deserves a second chance at life, away from the influence of Voldemort," Harry now looked directly into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, unsmiling, "and away from those who will try to convince him that it matters what a person's blood status is."

He stared Lucius Malfoy down at these words until the prisoner broke eye contact and stared at the floor. If Malfoy had been raised by any other father, he wouldn't have been dragged into this mess in the first place. He returned to his seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. You've given us much to consider. I will deliberate with the Wizengamot about the sentencing of the Malfoys." Kingsley said, waving Malfoy back to his chair.

Almost immediately, the courtroom broke their air of stern professionalism. Many members stood up to stretch their stiff backs, and discussions of the hearing began immediately.

"Harry," Kingsley said, a few rows away. "Ron, Hermione- come join us."

Malfoy stared at the group as they walked to the minister, eyes narrowed in suspicion. As part of the efforts to give fair and thoroughly discussed trials, silencing spells were cast on the bottom floor of the dungeon. This stopped arguments from breaking out between the accused and the prosecution after the questioning had already officially ended. The Malfoy family wouldn't be able to hear what the court was deliberating on. There had been quite the debate about whether or not this was fair to the defense, but after the first trials against Voldemort's supporters began to end with wands being raised, Arthur decided to officially enact the new system.

"Well, all things considered, that could have gone worse." Kingsley said. "Narcissa and Draco did quite well representing themselves and their misgivings."

"Yeah, the Ice Queen down there could have warmed herself up a bit, though." Ron replied, casting a look at Mrs. Malfoy.

Harry murmured in agreement with that statement. Had she repented a bit more instead of going for the detached _prove I broke any laws_ attempt, she'd likely be receiving a lesser sentence.

"And what about Mr. Malfoy, Minister?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Ah, well... he did about as well as I expected him to." Kingsley glanced at Harry. "I don't think there's anything that he could have said or done that would have ever prevented his return to Azkaban. And I believe that almost the entire Wizengamot is going to agree with me on that front."

Various witches and wizards began approaching Kingsley to give their opinions and ensure their voices be heard. From the general tone used while discussing Mr. Malfoy, it seemed that Kingsley had hit the nail on the head. There were many cries for justice, and for punishment. Harry did not once say a word in Mr. Malfoy's defense, but instead sat and listened to the consensus of Wizengamot.

When they found themselves being largely repetitive and in agreement, they began to move onto Mrs. Malfoy and Draco. There seemed to be more of a sense of pity for Mrs. Malfoy than there had been for her husband, but there was somehow less pity still for her son.

"He performed the imperious curse!" squawked a short witch with short gray hair. "Of course that should mean life in Azkaban! Think of poor Rosmerta!"

Harry threw his arms into the air in frustration. "He was 16! Not only was he _underage,_ but he was under immense stress." Harry said angrily. "It's not as if the ministry didn't commit their own atrocities while under Voldemort's control."

Many people looked away at that statement.

"If you want to punish people for choosing to commit atrocities instead of dying," Harry said coldly. "Then we should consider arresting everyone who was aiding in the efforts of the Muggle Born Registration Committee."

" _Harry."_ Hermione said sharply. "We can't compare the two."

"Rubbish. They were rounding up muggleborns for money." His tone was icy. "Forcing people into hiding. Killing them if they were found. Putting innocent men and women in Azkaban, ripping parents away from their children..."

"He's right." Ron said suddenly. "That's worse than one imperius curse. And that's coming from someone Malfoy almost killed by performing it."

Harry couldn't help but be surprised. Ron had kept unusually quiet about his opinion on the affairs of Draco Malfoy. He knew that Ron didn't think Malfoy was worth their time and effort.

There was a bit of guilty muttering at this, and sounds of reluctant agreement. It was hard, after all, to argue with Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived...

Harry stayed near Kingsley and Arthur to ensure he didn't miss a word of the proceedings. Arthur eyed him carefully as Mafalda and Percy carefully noted down the viewpoints people had been presenting them with. Their piles of parchment quickly grew taller and taller as more people spoke.

The debates went on for hours. Kingsley would bring up his idea of a fair consensus, and would immediately be argued about it from both sides. The Wizengamot remained unanimous on only one charge- that Lucius Malfoy deserved to be locked away for a very, very long time. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy's cases had much more varied opinions, which led to difficulties on what their actual punishment should be. After what felt like days, agreements were settled upon- although some people were less than happy about the outcomes.

The Wizengamot slowly returned to their seats. Some satisfied, and some dissatisfied. They shot dirty looks towards the Malfoys from their lofty height. Kingsley returned to his seat, sitting straight and firm.

"The Wizengamot have reached their decision"

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This was it. His whole life was about to change, one way or another.

Draco's heart was pounding so fiercely he felt as if it would give out. He stared desperately into the faces that he knew, hoping for a sign or a hint of what was to become of him, but the stoic expressions that looked back at him gave nothing away. _To hell with their damned professionalism!_

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," Shacklebolt began, "The Wizengamot have agreed to dismiss the charge against you for evasion of arrest; however, after the careful deliberation, reviewing of evidence, and the testimonies of the witnesses, the Wizengamot charges you for the crimes of being a death eater, of kidnapping, use of the unforgivable curses, and for treason against the Ministry of Magic."

 _For the crime of being a death eater._

"The Wizengamot sentences you to life in Azkaban prison."

Draco was stunned. He knew to expect this, but to actually hear the words said aloud was appalling. He turned to look at his father, who had his eyes closed and was swaying slightly in his chair. He was held up only by the restraints that bound him there. His mother was taking in sharp breaths, and sat on the borderline of hyperventilating. He wanted to reach out to her, to console her, but he could not move.

"Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy," Shacklebolt's voice grew even more solemn. "The Wizengamot have found you guilty of treason. For this, we sentence you to three years in Azkaban prison, with time served. In one year's time, you will be available for parole. The conditions have been set- you may choose, at that time, to remain in Azkaban to fulfill your sentence, or to willingly surrender your wand and live freely in a muggle village for five years time for rehabilitation purposes."

 _A muggle village? Surrendering her wand?_ Draco's head was reeling. His mother, he was sure, would choose to remain in Azkaban before being forced to be a cohabitant with muggles. _His mother, who had committed less crimes than he had, was going to Azkaban._ Draco could scarcely draw breath. He could not fathom, could not bring himself to imagine how terrible his own punishment would be.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy"

He felt himself sway massively in his seat. Was he going to pass out?

"In light of the eyewitness evidence and defense, The Wizengamot have agreed to drop any charges against you concerning Albus Dumbledore. The Wizengamot has decided to try you as a minor for your usage of the imperius curse, as well as the attempted murders of Ronald Weasley and Kathleen Bell. The punishment for the damage is expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will not be permitted to return as a student of the school to resume your interrupted studies. Instead, you will be tasked with the recovery efforts to repair the castle."

"For the crime of being a death eater, you are to be tried as an adult. Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy, that being a death eater typically guarantees a life imprisonment in Azkaban prison?" Arthur Weasley stared directly at him. Draco, ashen faced, could only nod.

"However," he continued, "In light of the outpouring of evidence in your defense, including a thorough inspection of your wand, as well as written and verbal testimonies, the court has decided to grant you 10 years of probation in lieu of Azkaban."

The final words of that sentence seemed to repeat themselves a hundred times in his head in a single second.

 _In lieu of Azkaban._

He wasn't going to prison.

"The terms of your probation include a strict curfew, permissions from the Ministry to leave the country, and inspections twice weekly from a witch or wizard serving in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Any breach of your probation or hint at law breaking will bring you back to trial." Shacklebolt summarized. "Understand, boy- that if you cannot follow these set conditions dutifully you may well end up back in Azkaban after all."

"I understand," Draco said weakly.

"Further details of your conditions will be provided to you shortly," Arthur Weasley spoke in a clipped tone. "after a meeting with myself, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You'll be obliged to sign a binding magical contract."

"Yes," Draco said weakly.

"Then," the minister said with a nod to Draco. "this trial is called to an end."

Draco felt the chains around him loosen magically, before slipping all the way off. He stood quickly, eager to get away from them, before looking to his parents. Theirs had not unbound them. Mafalda Hopkirk was walking back towards him, with the aurors who'd been escorting her before- but they ignored Draco and went straight for his mother and father.

"Wait-" Draco said in a strangled voice. "hold on-"

The aurors looked at each other.

"Make it quick." whispered one of the younger ones, casting him a sad glance. Draco went up to his mother and hugged her quite tightly, the chains digging into his side as he did.

"Behave yourself while I'm gone," she whispered to him. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

Draco nodded, stepping back and feeling a lump rising in his throat. He looked to his father, but didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man you'll never see again?

"Be well, Draco." his father spoke quietly, looking sick. Draco could only nod once before having to look away. The aurors moved forward and began shepherding his parents away from him.

"Stay safe!" Narcissa cried out, looking over his shoulder at him as if she were trying to burn every detail of him into her memory. They were whipped out of sight. They would be back in Azkaban by nightfall.

"Right, you'll have to come with me. We'll be taking you up to chat with Arthur Weasley about your terms and conditions." Mafalda Hopkirk said in a business-like voice. Draco followed her, unbound, up the lift to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Passerby cast him curious glances as he walked past cubicles to the head office.

"Right here, Mafalda- I'll take over now." Arthur Weasley had come up from behind them, just finishing conferring with a long haired wizard who seemed to work in the auror department. Mafalda turned heel and made her way back to the lift.

"This way, this way." Mr. Weasley steered Draco towards the head office. A short man stood outside the impressive door and handed Mr. Weasley a black bundle before walking away. "Come along in, now."

Mr. Weasley's office was large, and had an air of detached professionalism about it. There were few personal artifacts, with the exception of a handful of photos- one of him and his wife (both much younger), one of the Weasley family in Egypt, and one of his son and- was that the Beauxbatons champion from the Triwizard Tournament? Draco must have looked confused as to why her picture sat in his office, because Mr. Weasley answered his unasked question.

"Fleur married my eldest son, Bill, last summer."

"I see." was all Draco said.

"Have a seat, have a seat." Arthur gestured to the chair in front of his great oak desk, while filling the rather plush looking one behind it. Draco sat, feeling awkward.

"You were quite the hot topic at the debate," Mr. Weasley sighed. "It was tough to convince the majority to keep you out of Azkaban. Everyone is so keen to put the war behind them that they're finding themselves a lot more hungry for revenge and justice than they normally would."

Draco did not know what to say to this.

"The conditions of your probation have been outlined for you." He summoned a piece of parchment out of thin air. "If you break any conditions of your probation, you'll be brought back to the court to face retrial. I _strongly_ suggest you avoid doing so, as we'd have a harder time convincing the Wizengamot you deserve your freedom a second time."

He cast Draco a stern look.

"The conditions are as follows: Upon your return from your service at Hogwarts, you have a set curfew of 10:00pm. You must be inside your own residence by this time without fail, every night. Should there be a night where this is rendered impossible, you must let our office know at least 4 weeks ahead of said night to be given permission to stay out past hours. Furthermore, you may not leave the United Kingdom without express written permission from a ministry official."

"You have also been expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Mr. Weasley continued, his mouth in a tight line. "Normally the court cannot expel students from the school- however, I was given written consent by Headmistress McGonagall to expel you if it was between expulsion and imprisonment. You will return, regardless, in 2 days time to aide with the recovery efforts of the school, which is still in a state of terrible disrepair."

"You will be visited twice weekly, at any hour or time of day and night, by a representative of the ministry. They will have full permission to search your being and your residency, as well as inspection of your wand. If you have been found to have broken any law, regardless of what the law is, it will be considered a breach of your conditions and breaking your probation."

Draco felt the urge to say something in defiance, but _it was better than rotting away in Azkaban._

"If you are found to possess any dark objects or artifacts, or to be consorting or communicating in any way with known supporters of You-Know-Who, you will be immediately arrested. Do you understand all the conditions that have been set?

"Yes."

"Sign here, then." Mr. Weasley handed Draco a handsome tawny quill. Draco glanced over the parchment, reading through his terms once more, before signing his name at the bottom and returning it to Mr. Weasley, who signed it as well.

"Right. Please change into these." Mr. Weasley handed Draco the black bundle that was given to him. "So you don't alarm anyone."

They were a set of plain black robes. The fabric was a bit more stiff than Draco was used to, but they were certainly better than the ragged gray robes that identified him as a prisoner. Mr. Weasley magicked a partition in the corner of the room for his privacy, and Draco quickly changed, depositing the filthy robes onto the chair he had vacated. Mr. Weasley vanished them, and looked up at Draco.

"You're free to go. Good luck."

 _Good luck._ Draco would be needing that. He had no wand, no friends, and no desire to return to his deserted manor right now.

"Thank you." he said, extending his hand to Mr. Weasley, who looked mildly surprised but still took Draco's hand in a firm handshake. He left the office, still feeling slightly shocked that he didn't find himself bound in chains anymore. As he walked towards the lifts, a voice called out to him.

"Malfoy," Harry Potter said, a bit breathlessly. "Hey. Er... congratulations."

"Potter." was all Malfoy could bring himself to say. _Perhaps_ , he acknowledged, there was a 'Thank you' in order to him as well, but Draco was unsure of how he would be able to word one to the man who had gone from his greatest rival to his greatest supporter in the matter of a few months.

"I thought I'd better return this to you," Potter plunged into his robe pockets and pulled out a wand. Draco's wand, the black Hawthorne one he'd gotten the summer before his first year at Hogwarts. "seeing as it's yours, after all."

Draco looked at him suspiciously. He was tempted to snatch the wand from Potter's hand and cradle it, precious as it was, in his chest. Instead he found himself unable to act so undignified in this office, in front of him.

"I thought it belonged to you now," Draco replied. "Wand-lore and all that. Allegiances changing." He looked directly into Potter's eyes as he said that, attempting to convene the double meaning in his words.

"Well, if you don't want it back...," Potter said, motioning to return it back to his pocket.

"I do!" Draco said quickly, reaching out. Potter let out a grin, and color flushed to Draco's cheeks. He'd been _teasing_ him for Merlin's sake.

"Thought so." Potter handed Draco his wand back to him, and Draco's fist closed perfectly and familiarly around his own wand, back where it belonged at last.

"Thanks for uh... lending it to me."

Draco's cheeks burned even hotter. "It was nothing."

Potter looked at him for a second, with those guileless green eyes. "Sure it wasn't."

Draco began to continue his way to the lifts, unable to think of what else to say, and unwilling to stand there awkwardly making small talk. To his fury, Potter followed him, whistling casually with his hands in his pocket.

"What _are_ you doing, Potter?"

"Walking," he replied, once again flashing his Cheshire grin. "It's not a crime, is it?"

"You would know." muttered Draco, as they left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Where are you off to, now that the world is your oyster once more?"

Draco took a moment to think before replying to his question.

"What business is it of yours?" He asked sharply. He wanted to smack himself, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking to Potter as if they were still 13 years old. He noticed Harry's grin fade slightly. Draco let out an exasperated sigh.

"Diagon Alley, I think. I may inquire about staying at The Leaky Cauldron until I head to Hogwarts."

"Not going back home, then?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco did not respond to that question, instead began picking a piece of lint off of the stiff black robes the ministry had provided him with, so he did not appear as an escaped convict leaving the ministry. "I have," he began cautiously. "A few things to purchase. I may as well stay in the area while I do."

"Won't be doing any skulking in Knockturn Alley, I hope?"

"If I did," Draco drawled, "you would undoubtedly know about it, wouldn't you? Whether you're following me yourself or having me followed."

The lift arrived, and Draco stepped on it.

"Cheers, Malfoy," Potter said as the lift doors began to close. "I'll be seeing you soon, I reckon."

 _Seeing me soon?_ Thought Draco. _Why on earth would I be seeing_ Potter _soon?_ He shrugged off the idea. Unless Potter was returning for the next school semester, and Hogwarts was still in disrepair by then... when did he expect to run into Draco? He rubbed his temples in an attempt to rid himself of his headache.

It had certainly been an ordeal of a day.

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Note from the author:

Thank you for reading!

A special thanks to users _Clive54_ and _Dul'mephistos_ whose kind words gave me the motivation to continue. I really appreciate you two!

Moving forward, the chapters will be slightly shorter and also won't be a direct parallel between Harry and Draco. The reason I did the first two chapters as I did was to give introductions and depth to both Harry and Draco's characters. I'm sorry if the repetition was frustrating to read! There will be much less of that moving forward.

The next chapter, Repair and Disrepair, is in the works!

Thank you once more.

CM


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